It Can Come Back
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: The Doctor takes River to the Singing Towers...and then he does a Thing. When the Ponds find an empty TARDIS on their lawn, where is the Doctor? How is River alive? And if they find the Doctor, how can they get their friend back? Chameleon Arch fic, will feature several companions, written pre-season 7. Pairings: Doctor/River, Amy/Rory, Martha/Mickey COMPLETE, SEQUEL IN PROGRESS
1. Chapter 1

**First foray into the Doctor Who fandom, and I really should be working on my other fics, but…here goes. The way I see it, the Doctor leaves the Ponds in The God Complex sometime in 2011, then according to the Christmas special—if I remember correctly –he's been 'dead' for two years when he shows up for dinner…I'm setting this the year after that so it's…2014 in this story. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or any of the characters.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter One**

Amelia Pond, The Girl Who Waited, wife of the Last Centurion, was doing the washing up. In their nice, normal house—admittedly with a TARDIS blue door –that belonged to Rory and Amy Williams.

Amy Williams. She had to stop there a moment to collect her thoughts. It sounded so wrong to her ears every time, even though she heard it quite often here in Upper Leadworth. But never had it sounded worse from _his_ lips.

It had taken her awhile, time spent starting her own line of fragrances quite successfully, and many long, deep chats with her husband and daughter before she could _really_ see why he'd said it. That he couldn't save her.

But he had, plain and simple, even if she had needed two years to really appreciate it. Which was why, when she'd opened the door that Christmas to find him standing there—the same as ever –she had been filled with both utter delight and annoyance that it had taken him _so bloody long_.

Fortunately for her otherworldly friend and son-in-law—that still felt horrid to even _think_ let alone say –the joy had won out, doubled by Rory's happiness and they'd had a perfectly wonderful Christmas dinner. She'd felt a little smug to notice the glistening of tears in their friend's eyes when he properly joined them—and then laughed at the outright surprised and flustered look on his face when he realized his own wife was also present.

Even now the memory made her smile fondly, and she resumed her task at the sink, mind at ease. She was content. Yes, it was late spring and they'd heard no word from him, not even through River. In fact, the last time she'd seen her daughter, Amy had been positive the older-looking woman had barely been holding back tears.

"River, what's wrong?" She shared a concerned glance with Rory even as she seated herself next to her curly-haired daughter on their sitting room couch.

"Nothing, mum, nothing," River tried to deflect, but deflated a little under the combined stares of _both_ her parents. Amy waited patiently as the other woman collected her thoughts. "It's just—he took me to Asgard. A picnic."

"And what's wrong with that?" Rory asked, clearly not comprehending. It was true that their daughter greatly enjoyed the more…dangerous aspects of space-and-time-travel, but River Song was never one to complain when her husband wanted to be romantic.

"Nothing. It was beautiful there; you both would have loved it." She sighed, almost a little wistful, but the slight upward curve of her lips soon turned down. "But, he wasn't—he just wasn't—"

"Wasn't what?" Rory the Roman couldn't seem to help interrupting, but Amy corrected him with a harsh "Shush!" Rory quieted, a little sheepish at his overprotective behavior, but it did at least elicit a chuckle from their daughter.

"He didn't do anything bad, dad," River reassured him. Then her eyes got that far-away look they often did when these sorts of things were talked about. "He was just so _young_."

"How young?" Amy asked, a little curious. She'd even once joked with River about her getting to run around with younger versions of her husband, and the other woman had laughed at the time.

"So very young," River breathed, "Younger than I've ever seen him, mum. His last regeneration."

Amy and Rory exchanged a look at that. She didn't know all that much, having only heard a few stories that were mostly focused on the friends he'd been with at the time, and catching a glimpse of a photo once or twice. All she could remember was crazy hair, a long coat, and the clothes the raggedy man had been wearing when he'd first landed on her shed all those years ago.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she saw something flash behind her husband's eyes, a kind of memory, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of their daughter and cradling her face in his hands.

"Oh River, tell me it wasn't—"

"No, he knew me, don't worry dad," she tried for a smile, and as Amy watched she felt there was something she was missing. "But he called me _Professor_ Song."

"He called you that at the Byzantium, didn't he?" Amy spoke, remembering it vaguely. "And that's what you are now, yeah?"

"Yes. But he's only called me that a handful of times. And always when he's so young. I think…well, it hardly matters. We're not completely back to front, anyway. _He'll_ turn up again eventually." And just like that her confident smile was back in place, and Amy and Rory were at a loss for what they should do.

All Amy could do now was hope for her daughter's sake that if that mad man wasn't stopping in to see them, then he was spending his time with her. Amy could wait. Rory could wait. They'd both proven to have excellent patience.

"Amy, you've been scrubbing that plate for the past five minutes." She turned first to see her husband standing in the doorframe, looking a little amused, then back to the sink where she found his words to be true.

"And so I have," she remarked, then glanced back over her shoulder. "And you were just planning to watch, were you?"

"No, actually, I was just wondering if I was the only one hearing that noise, or if you could hear it, too."

"What noise?" She asked dismissively. There was quite a bit of background noise in Upper Leadworth. The slightly higher population meant more people and cars, the springtime meant birds and bugs flapping and buzzing about, and that strange grinding, whooshing, not-of-this-planet _vroop vroop_ was—

"I thought it was a leaf blower at first, but Mr. Hopkins isn't out today for once, and—" Rory stopped as Amy dropped the plate back in the sudsy water, pushed past him into the hall, and then out onto their back patio. "Amy!"

"It's him," she breathed to herself at first, and then, "Rory, it's him!"

It had to be, even as her eyes darted this way and that in search, and Rory stumbled out the door to join her.

Her imaginary, raggedy friend. The Doctor.

"Amy, I think—look out!" Rory practically shoved her to the ground, arms over her in a protective gesture as the TARDIS flew, rolling and zig-zagging, right over their heads and finally landed with an almighty crash and bang on their back lawn. Right side up this time.

She didn't notice this at first, too busy shaking her head and sitting up from the unexpected trip to the wood paneling of their patio. "Oh thanks, maybe next time you 'drop in' you could make it more a figure of speech, you great numpty!" Standing and brushing herself off, she prepared to continue the verbal abuse when her husband's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Amy," Rory said, a little hesitant, but dead serious, causing her to give him her full attention. "Why is the door already open?"

'What?" Her head whipped around to give the blue police box a questioning glance, but it only confirmed his words. The TARDIS' front door was swinging in and out of its own accord, as though in a breeze or…

"Doctor?" Amy called. Usually the alien would be poking his head out inquisitively, or literally leaping out to greet them, huge smile on his face and maybe even a ridiculous hat to go with it. "Doctor, do you want us to come in?" Couldn't he just say so or something? He wasn't ever this quiet! Come to think of it, the TARDIS wasn't this quiet either.

"No, Amy, I mean it was open. I saw it, when it went over our heads." Rory completed the gesture by sweeping a hand over his brown mop. Amy wasn't impressed.

"It couldn't have been. He always shuts it when it's in flight, it wouldn't be safe. Don't you, Doctor?" She said the last bit louder, hoping for some kind of response. None came. "Doctor!"

"Doctor?" Rory tried as well. The door to the spaceship was still, having lost its momentum. Amy and Rory shared a look.

As one the two Ponds marched to the TARDIS and pushed the door back open.

They were met with the consol room, dark and empty. Not pitch black as though the lights had been cut off, but dimmed as though the ship was…resting somehow.

"Doctor!" Rory called, and started for one of the corridors leading, if she remembered correctly and she knew she did, to their bedroom, the kitchen, and the med bay.

The med bay. Was the Doctor hurt? Was that why he was not out here to meet them? Amy walked slowly up the stairs to the familiar consol, hand trailing over the railing, and came to a stop in front of the controls. Nothing looked out of place, although it had never made much sense to her in the past. She knew where the zigzag plotter was and the ketchup and mustard, that was enough for her. It probably had been for the best he never let her drive…

She absently patted the ship without noticing, and only realized she'd done it because the time rotor pulsed up and down once, the TARDIS itself emitting a single, low hum.

"What is it, girl? What's happened?" She asked aloud, wishing she was able to understand the ship, maybe not as well as her chosen pilot, but at least as well as River.

River. What were they going to tell River? Did she perhaps know what was going on? Was anybody going to take the time to explain it to her?

"Amy," Rory said as he came to a stop back in the consol room, and she whirled to face him. "I couldn't find him down that way. Do you want me to try—"

"No," she interrupted, surprised slightly by the words that followed after, but knowing them to be true as she spoke them. "He's not here." The TARDIS gave another hum, the lights dimming up and then down again, as though to agree.

"But then, where is he?" Rory asked, coming down the stairs to meet her at the control panel. "How did the TARDIS fly without anybody in it? Doesn't it, shut down or something?"

"I don't know, Rory," Amy admitted, and the nervousness that had been coiling up inside ever since he'd pointed out that open door was starting to become difficult to ignore. "The door. Maybe that's why he left it open, so it wouldn't shut down. Does that sound right?"

Rory shrugged. "Sounds good to me." Supportive as ever. She rolled her eyes, though her lips quirked upward as she moved around the controls to the old fashioned typewriter.

"These are where he sets the coordinates. Something's been punched in, he was definitely trying to get—well, get the TARDIS somewhere."

"Here." Rory said, and she looked up to find him studying the monitor screen. "He was trying to get the TARDIS here, it's our coordinates." He met his wife's gaze and asked, "But why?"

"I don't know," she said again, hating that. _He_ would know. The Doctor always knew.

"And where does that leave him?" Rory questioned, the thought that had been on both their minds.

"That's what I've been trying to find out."

"River!" Amy was pretty sure both she and Rory said it, turning to see their daughter standing in the still-open doorway, a vortex manipulator strapped over the wrist of the spacesuit—of all things! –she was wearing.

"River, why are you in a—" Rory started but their daughter cut across them.

"Came straight from work. Well, not _straight_ from work, I was a little disoriented. Being dead can do that, did you know?" The smirk she wore told them she knew exactly the reaction she would get.

"Sorry, being _what_?" Amy demanded. First an empty TARDIS and now this?

"I'm quite alright, mother. No idea how, which is why I was attempting to track down my husband. I was so sure he could explain. But, as you've pointed out, he doesn't seem to be…here…" She trailed off, her eyes going to something on the controls, and soon their daughter was joining them on the main platform.

"No, wait, go back," Rory said, even as the archeologist began pressing buttons. "Being dead? What do you mean?"

"There's a message left, a recording," River spoke, still not answering the question. "He's locked it."

"Then how do we unlock it?" Amy asked, willing to go along with the distraction. River had said the Doctor could explain what happened, so if they found him then all of their questions would be answered.

"Easy." River said with a grin. "It's programmed to play in the presence of three or more TARDIS inhabitants. Doesn't matter who as long as they are or have been companions of his."

"Is that why he sent it here, then?" Rory asked. "Because he figured the three of us would be together at some point?"

"Quite likely. Place your hand over this knob, it will scan you to make sure of who you are." Amy and Rory did as requested, and immediately the monitor started to crackle. There were a couple seconds of static, and then quite suddenly—

"Aha! Got it." A familiar pair of eyes blinked into existence on the screen, before the Doctor pulled away enough for them to see his whole face. "Knew this thing was still working—mind, I haven't actually used it before. Last time was with the old control room, and it was more of a computer screen-type-thing." He paused a moment, then tapped the screen on his end once or twice. "This is actually working, isn't it?" Amy nearly giggled, but then remembered they still had no idea what was going on. "Good!"

The Time Lord sat back fully in his chair, and Amy thought she heard River give a sharp intake of breath. She thought she could see why; he was in a finely tailored suit, brand new and barely worn from the looks of it. And if she studied him really closely, she could even tell he'd gotten a trim. Sure, his brown hair was still floppy as ever, fringe hanging just above the right eye, but a haircut was a haircut.

"Now, I'm going to program the TARDIS to land at your coordinates, but you know how she can be, doesn't always go where I tell her to. I do hope she does this time, though, because this is going to be an extremely awkward and nonsensical greeting for whoever you are if she went wrong." He nodded once at the screen seriously before his face split into that huge beam, the one that said nothing whatsoever could possibly be wrong.

"The Ponds! How are you both? Let me think, when did I see you last, Christmas? Yes, Christmas. Christmas! One of my favorites, and for once, no alien invasions, wasn't that a nice present? Wait a moment, I'm forgetting something, what is it?" He tossed the psychic paper back and forth in his hands with a look of such concentration that Amy thought perhaps he'd come to the important issues at hand. Namely, his current whereabouts. "I'm supposed to do something, otherwise I'll seem—rude!" Amy and Rory both jumped in their seats. River was still staring, seemingly enraptured and yet solemn, by his appearance.

"That's what it is, I'm being rude—no, can't be, I was rude last time, and not ginger, still not ginger—anyway!" He paused for breath, and she couldn't help to lean forward slightly, noticing Rory do likewise. River again stayed put.

"Thank you for your hospitality!" He said brightly, and Amy blinked, not quite believing it. "The food was quite excellent, by the way. And I really did love your decorations!"

"Doctor," Amy couldn't help but grumble impatiently, hearing Rory chuckle beside her at that. It was almost as though he heard her, for the Doctor seemed to sober up slightly.

"Sorry, just not every day I get to sit down to a family Christmas dinner with companions." He stopped, then corrected, "Well, there was that one time…but I think Jackie had the turkey in too long. And that other time I was invited to—didn't go. Probably the best, it all worked out anyway." He sighed, before amending in a more subdued tone. "For her, it worked out for her…" The Doctor trailed off with a distant look to his face, so far away and long ago and oh so sad.

The TARDIS, still brightly lit in the recording, made a soft comforting hum, and the Time Lord shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry dear, I was rambling wasn't I? Just…wasting time I suppose. Putting it off." He gave a self-depreciatory snort. "I'm always putting things off, I suppose. But not this time." He'd gone completely serious now, and the nervousness that had faded with his inane babble returned to her full force.

"Sit down, Ponds. All three of you. I know you're there, River." The woman in question almost flinched, so Amy led her to the pilot's chair. She took up a spot behind their daughter, perching on the railing next to Rory, and felt a little better when he took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

In the message, the Doctor took a deep breath, exhaling as he gazed intently at the screen. If Amy didn't know better, she would think he was capturing their image, every last detail, to store away in his mind. But he was just a recording, and she wished he'd get on with it so they could find the real him.

"This is it," he spoke at last with tremendous finality. "Amy, Rory, and River. And I am so very sorry."

**So that's the first chapter. A bit slow in the beginning, but I really wanted to get a feel for writing Amy. Not every chapter will be from her perspective, but quite a few of them will. Chapter Two's finished, I just need to read over it once or twice to check for any errors. Anyway, I would really appreciate any and all feedback as this is my first attempt at writing for these characters. Let me know how I did or how to improve! Thanks for taking the time to read this, and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Right, so, Chapter Two as promised. I apologize in advance because most of this will be Doctor-monologue. I can't seem to get him to shut up. Ah well.**

**At any rate, thanks so much for all of your responses! I'm glad I've gotten off to a good start!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock **

**Chapter Two**

"What does he mean?" Amy said, turning to look at Rory, who merely shrugged in response. She faced towards the monitor again, asking "_What_ is it?" She didn't even care if he was a recording.

"Rule Number one, Pond," the Doctor spoke, and Amy wasn't sure if she was reassured or terrified that he knew how she would be reacting. "Well, I suppose I never really lied about it. You never did ask me for a straight answer. Neither of you, come to think of it." He paused again to scratch at his chin absently.

"But from what I understand it _is_ the standard question to ask a couple. 'How did you meet?' You were there when your _daughter_ met _me_." He let that sink in for a moment.

"The first time I met River was the day she died." His voice was soft, low, and so full of pain. But Amy could hardly notice because she gasped sharply while Rory let out a cry of disbelief. River merely closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"A long time ago, so very long, I received a message on the psychic paper to come to The Library." Amy saw the shiver that went down her daughter's spine, but couldn't help her curiosity.

"The what?"

"A planet—the biggest library in the universe," River breathed.

"Never could resist a cry for help, me," the Doctor said, a small smile playing at his lips. "So I went with Donna to investigate. We met up with a team of archeologists. And with that team," the Doctor paused to draw breath, "was Professor River Song." She saw a million emotions playing across the ancient alien's face before it slipped back into the usual mask he wore.

"Stunning, even in a spacesuit," he commented, and River seemed to be unable to hold back the little laugh that resulted, shaking her head at the man on the screen. "Witty, flirtatious, intelligent. Infuriating, really, I could barely keep up!" He seemed to still be astounded even by the memory and Amy smiled at that. "And oh so very mysterious."

His eyes were far away again, and he spoke slowly and quietly. "She called me Sweetie…touched my face." Almost as if subconsciously, one of the Doctor's hands came up to his cheek, as if he could still feel it. River's eyes were shimmering with unshed tears and Amy and Rory each reached out an arm to place a hand on either of her shoulders.

"I felt so…warm. And that frightened me." He admitted, seeming to snap out of the trance he'd practically placed himself into. She wondered at that; what a long way he'd come from fearing human emotion or contact, to being married to her own daughter. Her heart reached out to that young Doctor, but Amy was glad she'd had a part in bringing her best friend the happiness he now cherished.

"In the end," he continued, attempting to regain some of his usual fast momentum, "The Library was going to self-destruct, killing four-thousand and twenty-two people. I'd figured out a way to pull them out before that happened and shut down the countdown by wiring myself to the data core. But I didn't get to finish."

Amy felt Rory tense right alongside her. Wiring himself to the data core? That would have likely killed him if he had finished! But what had happened instead?

"River knocked me out. One punch, all it took," he groused, still obviously annoyed with himself. "Your daughter, I hope you're proud!" He pointed an accusing finger at the screen, and Amy was torn between laughing and crying. Because why had River knocked out the Doctor?

"When I came to, I was handcuffed to a pole, and River had taken my place." Amy gasped, hands flying to her mouth, while Rory firmly gripped his two girls' shoulders.

"Oh Amy, Rory, I tried to get her to stop, struggled, pleaded even. But she wouldn't let me do it. Because if I had died she would never have met me at all." His face turned away then, but even in profile Amy could see the frustration, the grief, and the overwhelming guilt etched into his features. "Ponds, magnificent Ponds…I wouldn't blame you one bit if you shut me off right now and walked out the door. It's what I deserve." His eyes flicked back to the screen, with a strange sort of spark in them, and Amy found herself holding her breath. "But you've listened this far, eh?"

Amy and Rory exchanged confused, tear-filled glances before jumping again when the Doctor on the monitor clapped his hands together once.

"Right! So, River, I'm assuming that you have just left The Library—"

"What?" Amy said in bewilderment. He'd just said their daughter had sacrificed herself in that horrible place, how could she have come here from there?

"And have informed your parents on your current status among the living."

Rory leaned forward and punched the 'pause' button on the monitor. "Hang on, he just said—"

"Rule number one," River cut across, though it was in a far more subdued manner than usual. "I did wire myself into CAL—the computer data core—but when the countdown finished, I woke up. I'd been teleported back to the university, saved like all the others. Which means _he_ _did something_."

She didn't understand why this was so upsetting to her daughter. "Well that's good, yeah? You're alive. He- he did it!" Amy let out a shaky laugh, and beside her Rory finally relaxed and grinned back.

"Yes, mum, but what did he do? Why is the TARDIS here—without him?" River ran a hand through her wild curls, and she didn't miss the dread that permeated the blonde's tone. The university professor leaned forward and hesitantly, almost reluctantly, pushed 'play'.

"Which means—" as quickly as the recorded Doctor's good mood had arrived, it deflated as he said, "It's time for me to apologize again."

"What for now?" Rory asked aloud, clearly not appreciating the roller coaster ride in emotions.

"I suppose the easiest way to explain would be for me to answer the customary question, am I right dear?" Amy wasn't even sure this time if he was asking the TARDIS, River, or both. She supposed it didn't matter. He was asking his wife. "Where am I?"

"He means—" Rory started.

"When in our timelines is he," River confirmed, though she had to swallow rather thickly first.

"I just dropped you off, River…after the Singing Towers." The way he was now staring intently at the screen seemed to add even more weight to the words, incomprehensible as they were to Amy. Her daughter, however, seemed to understand perfectly as she let a single choked sob break free and half-reached toward the monitor as though she could comfort the recording.

"You told me all about signing up for the expedition, the team—oh Anita, Other Dave, Proper Dave, innocent Miss Evangelista, even Lux," he paused to draw in a shaky breath. "It was torture, sitting there and smiling- encouraging you, but I couldn't give it away. Time streams have to be maintained, you see?"

Amy wasn't sure she could see. All this time, every meeting with River. She'd always thought her daughter had to shoulder tremendous burdens when it came to foreknowledge about the Doctor. And yet he'd been doing the same. How could the universe be so cruel to such a pair?

"Did everything just like you said. New suit and a haircut and the Singing Towers of Darillium. Don't know why I'm mentioning it, you were there, too," he muttered near the end. "But here it is: River Song, I'm sorry because I broke my rule. I peeked."

It was River's turn to gasp as Amy and Rory looked at each other again, before turning questioning eyes on their daughter.

"My journal," she whispered.

"Every entry, every written line, I already knew. Because I'd been there, River. As time stands right now—well, it doesn't actually stand, it's always walking, running, moving about, doing cartwheels—anyway! Our story has ended. You'll be uploaded to CAL and I'll drift…alone. My days with you have all been spent, you're- gone, And I'll never…see you…" He couldn't seem to finish, his head dropping to rest in his lap.

"Oh Doctor," Amy murmured, watching the broken man on the screen.

"But not quite!" He shot back up again with explosive energy. "Because since you're watching this, you're _not_ stuck in CAL or dead, because I've done something. I'm doing something. I _will_ do something."

"This is it, then, this is the plan?" Rory questioned, and was immediately shushed by both Pond women.

"I can't go to The Library and just shove you out of the way because otherwise I'd remember me doing it. Since I didn't, that would rewrite time and possibly blow a hole in the universe—maybe the size of Germany this time. So no big, dramatic rescue. I have to be sneaky with this one."

"Like that's worked in the past," Amy scoffed, unable to stop herself.

"I can't shove you out of the big chair, River, but that doesn't mean I can't go to the Library itself. From a remote location I can reconfigure the wiring—a sort-of sabotage, yes—so it puts the countdown on a delay instead of stopping it like you tried."

"But that's bad," Rory pointed out, "Everything will just go boom, you know?"

"This can't be the plan," River said, sounding almost in denial. Neither she nor Rory seemed to care they were arguing with a video. "For one thing, you'd still need another mind to channel the data core once your delay ended. Not to mention the whatever you plan on controlling from your 'remote location' to reconfigure the wiring. And you'd only have—"

"The delay would last minutes, but that's plenty of time because I've got the perfect unwitting accomplice," the Doctor grinned and said one word. "_Me_."

"What?" Amy blurted.

"Not to mention my secret weapon. A re-router disguised as a neural relay disguised as a sonic screwdriver. What do you think, Professor Song?"

River's eyes had gone wide. "You didn't. Tell me you _didn't_."

"Didn't what?" Amy asked, hardly able to take all the suspense. She saw that Rory was quickly being bogged down by all the sciency aspects and she hardly felt better off.

"He's going to—he sent the data core—"

"When me from the past plugs the sonic in to mistakenly save your neural relay, CAL will then run through the wiring I am going to set up in the TARDIS. Everybody lives." His satisfied smile was genuine, but Amy felt that something still wasn't quite right.

"River, what did you mean when you said 'another mind'?"

"Yeah, and, what happened to the wiring that he set up?" Rory added.

On the screen, the Doctor's head tilted to one side and then back, his prominent chin pointing towards the ceiling. "Look up, Ponds."

Amy found herself doing so without a second thought. "What is _that_?" A strange apparatus, like a headset, was hanging from the ceiling, with wires that led into the control panel in some complicated fashion.

"No. No he didn't. You didn't!" River cried at the screen.

"The Chameleon Arch. It attaches to my head. I'm going to set it up to send The Library data core through my mind. It'll activate when the sonic is plugged into CAL. That is why I gave you my screwdriver, River," he confided. "So you would give it to me, and I would activate this," he pointed up at the ceiling. "There's nothing stopping it."

"What'll it—what _did_ it do to him?" Amy corrected herself, although she wasn't sure whether her daughter would respond. River's shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs.

"He's right," she whispered. "We can't stop it. We can't stop _him_."

"Because I'm running it through the Chameleon Arch, it won't kill me, per say," the Doctor continued, and Amy felt her heart rise back up from the pit it had sunk to, but still felt agitated by the very tired, sad look on her friend's face. "It will do what it is intended to do. The Chameleon Arch will change me."

"Change, how?" Rory asked, bewildered.

"It's very complicated science, but essentially it will change my biology—everything except my outward physical appearance. It will make me- human." He seemed to be waiting a moment to let them react. If he had been able to hear, he would not have been disappointed.

"Make you hum—he can do that?" Amy hardly found herself believing it.

"Okay, so he's not dead and he's not a Time Lord," Rory was processing aloud, "Still not telling us a location, Doctor!"

"Hang on, if he's human, can he even be called the Doctor?" Amy pondered. "I mean, humans have normal names, yeah? Does he have a normal name now?" It was stupid and pointless, but she was having trouble grasping the fact that their very alien friend was now as human as- well, her or Rory or any one of their Upper Leadworth neighbors.

River, meanwhile, had sprung from the pilot's chair and was now rooting about the control panel, seeming very intent on searching for something.

"Well, this really isn't _so_ bad," Rory tried to put a cheerful spin on it. "I mean, yeah it's different, but he's alive. He's still our friend."

"No, he isn't," River contradicted, the words sounding much too harsh to Amy.

"As a human, my mind won't be able to handle all of the memories—a Time Lord consciousness is too much for you lot," the Doctor said this with a fond smile, like a big brother who felt his younger sibling wasn't ready for something yet. "Ordinarily, that would cause my new human mind to burn up, but the Arch is designed to stop that from happening- by making me forget. Everything."

She felt numb. Everything? All his memories, which meant…no more Ponds, Rory the Roman, Little Amelia, not even River. He wouldn't remember them. _Didn't_ remember them. Because they were watching a recording and River was here with them, so he'd already gone and done it.

A loud bang from her daughter slamming something shut on the consol caused her to look up sharply. "What are you doing?" She demanded, a little annoyed that her daughter seemed more interested in the TARDIS right now than her own husband.

"We can restore him. The Chameleon Arch puts the Time Lord consciousness into a receptacle. Now _where_ did you put it?" She nearly shouted the last part, and Amy knew she was speaking to her absent husband.

"Normally, even that wouldn't be so bad, just pop open a fob watch and out I come," The Doctor informed them, and Amy could only assume that this watch was what River was searching for. "But…I don't have it anymore."

River froze, her face the picture of shock and a little bit of horror.

"I used the Arch once before, last regeneration…different man then. And I hurt—" a spasm of something like pain or sorrow crossed his face before he continued, "Well, people. People died because I didn't know what was happening. So I decided never again. To that end, I gave away the watch to a human. Dead now. Like everyone else does eventually. And now," he added, as if just coming to the realization, "like I will."

Something twisted painfully in Amy's chest because the idea of the Doctor dying like a normal human being was strange and awful.

"The Doctor—human. Maybe I'll live to a ripe old age. 90? 90 is normal for you lot, isn't it? I expect the average is climbing towards the hundred mark at this point, though." He seemed to be thinking about it, likely going through all that knowledge stored away in that head. That knowledge that would disappear. And to think she'd mocked him for his 'useless trivia' in the past! Amy would give anything to listen to him babble, safe and physically in the TARDIS with them.

"Well, I suppose that's not completely right. The Doctor won't live to 90, because I won't be the Doctor anymore. And that is the point, Ponds: Do not go looking for me," he fixed them with a stern expression for a moment. "I really mean it this time, because I won't know you. I'll look the same, but I won't be _me_, I'll be a- shadow of myself. And I know how that feels, to see someone you care about so- very- much. For them to be like that, and have no way to help them. It would break your heart. Please, trust me on that." He pleaded, eyes dark with a terrible pain and loss.

"Donna," River murmured, bowing her head.

"And that reminds me, River, I want to say how very sorry I am. I know you don't blame me, and I know it was an accident that your message arrived too early, but I still hurt you. I could see it in your eyes." River slowly walked back around to properly view him on the monitor. "And I don't know how to make that better, but know that you, River Song, are loved. Always, and completely." He offered a warm, adoring smile. "It's why I'm doing this. Not to preserve timelines or save the universe. Wife, all of time and space before me and yet you are out of my reach…and I don't think I could bare that for a single day."

River let out a shaky breath and dropped back down onto the pilot's chair, placing her face in her hands. Amy and Rory were immediately at their daughter's sides, wrapping their arms around in a three-person huddle. Amy was trying very desperately to be strong, but knew she was only seconds away from tears.

The Doctor released a heavy sigh and ran one hand through his already mussed hair. "There's one last thing I'm going to have to ask of you three. I know it'll be difficult, but it has to be done." He fixed them with a solemn gaze. "I have to set my affairs in order. It's what my friends deserve after everything. What's left of my friends, anyway. So I'm nominating you executors of my will."

Amy closed her eyes and buried her face in River's shoulder. She wanted to tell him to stop- stop using words like 'dying' and 'putting affairs in order' and 'will'. Because it kept reminding her that her friend was gone.

"Don't worry, the TARDIS will take you to any recipients. She's likely placed herself on emergency power now, but I'm positive her Child can fix that," he said with a proud grin. "Thank you three in advance for being strong, just like I know you are." He stopped a moment to think, and then began.

"Right, best to start with the first. To Barbara Wright and Ian Chesterton—or should I say Mr. and Mrs. Chesterton? Sarah Jane mentioned you two, professors at Cambridge! Brilliant." He pouted a bit, as though rethinking something, one finger raised in the air as though to freeze his listeners. "Hang on, would that be Professor and Mrs. Chesterton? Mrs. Professor Barbara Wright-Chesterton- blimey, that's a mouthful." The Doctor scratched at his cheek, and Amy finally reached forward and pressed the pause button.

"What are you doing?" Rory asked, almost woodenly.

Amy looked at him imploringly. "Not right now. I just- can't. I can't right now, Rory. And—" She gestured helplessly at their daughter, still hiding her face which was likely wet with tears, and her husband nodded.

"Okay. But, we should probably skip to the end, just to make sure he hasn't forgotten something. You know him." Amy took a steadying breath and nodded determinedly. She hit fast forward for what felt like ages before finally stopping.

"And that is it. Oh, you humans…just going through that reminds me of all the mistakes I've made…the lives I've ruined. Well, least that's over with. No more mad man in his blue box to destroy the people he calls friends. I'll be an unassuming human, an ordinary life, living linearly," he grimaced briefly. "If ever there was a fate I deserved, that would be it." He nodded in agreement with himself.

"Oh, but I just want to say—" Amy and Rory listened with rapt attention. He smiled, not a manic grin or a false quirk of the lips or a confident smirk, a warm, soft, real smile that gave his whole countenance the appearance of a man at peace. "Thank you. Each and every one of you. My companions, the most magnificent human beings on Planet Earth. Knowing you all has been my greatest pleasure. For all that I wish I had never ruined any of you, I shall never regret the times we've had. Selfish old man to the end, I suppose."

He shook his head at himself, and then jerked with a sudden thought, bringing his wrist up to examine his watch. "Right. It's now or never, so here goes. And don't worry about me, the Chameleon Arch will integrate me into whatever setting I land in—after I jump from the TARDIS. Won't hurt a bit, any of it." He gave a thumbs up, which did nothing to reassure her or lift her spirits.

"Promise me you'll all keep being so very brilliant. Professors, investigators, protestors, doctors and nurses, models, captains—even archeologists." He winked at the screen even as he stood up. "Come along, dear," he smiled in the direction of the time rotor from his perspective. "Next stop, The Library. 4022—forget that—4022 people, a super-temp, and Hell in high heels to be saved. Geronimo."

The screen froze then, the resolute look of the Oncoming Storm forever paused.

Amy and Rory looked over their daughter's curly hair at each other, both trying to reconcile everything they had just watched. Finally, Rory moved his hand gently to the silently crying woman's shoulder.

"River? Please, say something or- or—"

"You don't have to hide from us. Please let us in," Amy said quietly.

River Song's head slowly rose, eyes wet and red, and tear tracks running down her cheeks. "Oh mum, dad," she managed, before reaching out and clinging to them both. Sobs wracked their daughter's body as Amy and Rory wrapped her tighter in a three-way embrace.

A part of her could feel nothing but gratitude to the man—no, the alien, he was a man now—who had saved her daughter and returned her to them. He really had always been there to catch his River Song.

But why had the cost had to have been so high?

**So that ended up being much longer than I expected. I hope it flowed well, I know it was mostly just talking. Things will start moving in the chapters to come, because now the Ponds have to break the news to everybody else. I'm mostly going to stick to NewWho companions, in other words the Children of Time, since I haven't watched the classic series. Just thought I'd give a shout-out to Ian and Barbara, they sound like pretty awesome characters, but I wouldn't be able to write for them. Of course, there's also the issue of what's happened to the human Doctor—or should I say John Smith? Thanks again for reading, and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't know why I'm able to keep churning these out, but that's good for you lot, I suppose. Now it's time to get a look at where the Doctor is. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock.**

**Chapter Three**

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it to be late this time!"

John Smith tried his best to suppress the somewhat exasperated sigh even as he ran a hand through his literally uncontrollable hair. Bedhead every morning.

"Evan, calm down."

"Mummy says I have to pay the fine this time, but I don't have any money. Please don't be mad, Mr. Smith!" Poor little Evan, nine-years old if he remembered correctly, stood trembling before the checkout counter, very close to tears.

"Why would I be mad? I'm not mad, Evan." He wasn't sure why, but he almost stumbled over the words. He did that a lot, for no reason at all it seemed. But that wasn't important right now because right in front of him, a little boy was crying.

"Mummy's mad at me," the child managed, scrubbing at his eyes with still-pudgy fists. Before he knew it, John had hopped up on the desk, swung his legs around—knocking everything on the one side to the ground, though thankfully not the computer—and was knelt before Evan Hart.

"Oh Evan," he said, gently placing his hands on the boys shoulders. "Your mum isn't mad at you. She's merely trying to teach you to be responsible. It's something that grownups are; you'll understand it better when you're older. I think now's a little too early, eh?" He moved his head around trying to meet the boy's gaze, but Evan was still covering his eyes with his hands.

"I don't think I want to understand, Mr. Smith," Evan choked out, but at least he wasn't shaking so much anymore.

"I know, being a grownup is rubbish sometimes, Evan, but this is about your library book." Immediately he felt the boy tense up again, so he gave his shoulders a little squeeze. "And I'm not mad at you. Trust me."

Evan lifted his face up and met his gaze. "But I don't have any money."

"No, you don't," John agreed, slowly rising to his feet, all the while fishing in his pockets. He first plunged his hand into his inner-breast pocket—before promptly realizing the pale blue button-down he wore over a plain white t-shirt didn't have inner-breast pockets. Shaking his head as though to clear the metaphorical cobwebs, he instead tried the actual breast-pocket, but finally remembered: he kept his wallet in his back jeans' pocket, he always had. He supposed he'd just forgotten was all.

_Clink Clink_ went the right change in the Fine Jar, before John turned back to Evan. "But look at that. Seems I've already got enough coins in the jar today." He grinned down at the boy. Evan sniffed twice more, before returning with a timid smile of his own. "Just a promise, Evan: no more tears today, all right?"

Evan nodded once, twice. But just to help him with that promise…

John fished a couple bills out of his wallet as well. "There you go," he said, handing them to the child. "Ice cream always makes you feel better after a good cry. Maybe some custard. Although, you wouldn't do any harm to have a nice cup of tea. I'll take this," he added, taking the book Evan had tucked under one arm.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith!"

"Don't mention it, I'm here to help." Evan ran off toward the exit, turning back once to wave goodbye. John gave a cheery wave back. He glanced into his wallet, where there was one bill left. Ah well, he hardly needed to eat dinner _every_ night.

It was strange, he had never been rich growing up. John Smith was an orphan, his parents having died in an accident. As a result, he had been sent through the system, shunted from home to home. He'd never had much money, quite the opposite. So why was he always handing it out like he plucked it from thin air? Molly was going to be in a right state if she—

"Johnny!" He whirled around, guiltily shoving his wallet back in place. His best friend and coworker, Molly Pines, stood behind the counter- where he was supposed to be. Right.

"Er, Molly! Ehm, what's up?"

Molly sighed and shook her head, her dark brown pony tail swinging back and forth. There was an upward quirk to her lips though, which made him think perhaps she was not mad at him. Well, Molly never really was mad with him ever, so he supposed he didn't actually have anything to fear.

"I saw," she told him, nodding once at the spot where Evan had been. "That was nice what you did for him."

"Okay," he said, nodding as well. Nice. Nice was good.

"How much do you have left?" Instantly he switched the nodding to shaking.

"No, no, no. Molly, I'm fine, I've got enough. I won't—"

"Just take it, please," she requested, and now it was his turn to be offered paper money. "I don't want you to starve." He pouted a bit and thought he saw her waver, but then she said more quietly, "Johnny, please."

John sighed and accepted the bills, tucking them away. "That's not fair, Molly. You know I'll do anything if you say 'please'." He looked back up and almost thought he saw faint traces of pink fading from her cheeks. But he blinked and it was gone and Molly gave her little nervous giggle of a laugh.

"Oh, and Ron of course," he hastened to add. Ron Sherwood was their other best friend, and his flatmate, who worked down at a hardware store a few blocks over.

"Of- of course," Molly replied, her eyes darting about before landing on the miscellaneous pile of things on the floor. "Er, Johnny, did you—"

"What?" He followed her gaze. "Oh! Ehm, yes that was me- I just, I'll get it." He got back down on the ground again, scooping up books, pens, paper, and whatever else he'd carelessly knocked over. "Anything else?"

"Just wanted to remind you it's nearly time for our break. We're meeting Ron for lunch, remember?"

"Of course I do!" He declared, standing up to face those wide, brown eyes. "Maybe," he corrected, and when she didn't look away he deflated. "No, I forgot. I'm always forgetting," he said, frustrated at the reminder.

"It's fine, Johnny," she assured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "They said it's not your fault. You'll always have me to remember for you, anyway."

He couldn't stop the smile that broke out on his face at his friend's words, no matter how much he was trying to be irritated and mopey and generally a Mr. Grumpy Face. How had he ever ended up with such tremendous friends?

"Thanks Molly. I'll just put these books back, eh? Won't even miss me- I'll be back before you can say—"

"We're going to be late for Ron," Molly giggled again, before slowly beginning the question, "Where…has he…got…"

John's eyes widened and he raced off to the shelves to beat her. If there was one thing he knew better than anything, it was books. He was the best in the whole library at finding, restocking, reading- anything to do with books. Ron often joked that someone must have tried to cram the whole Dewey Decimal system into his head as a baby or something. Sometimes, very rarely, he was inclined to agree. Like now.

"Done!" He shouted after running nearly headlong into the checkout counter, barely catching himself with his hands.

"…to..now?" Molly finished, a look of awe on her face. "That was amazing, Johnny! I think that was your fastest yet."

He was still trying to get his heart to stop pounding a steady _thump thump_ in his ears to reply, so he watched as she gathered up her purse and pulled on a pale pink cardigan. "You should be an athlete, Johnny, I think I saw you hurdle a cart on the way back."

"Did…I?" He gasped in between huge breaths.

"Mm-hm," she affirmed. "so let's go get some food in you, track star."

Having finally caught his breath, John walked with Molly out the front door and to their usual café. Ron was already at a table, so they sat down across from him. In short order, the three friends had their food and were chatting as they ate.

"I don't know, mate. Mrs. Hart'll probably have a cow when she realizes her son didn't pay for the fine _or_ the ice cream," Ron chuckled when he'd heard the whole tale. His tall, stocky friend rubbed at the stubble on his chin and shook sandy bangs from his eyes.

"Ah, come on, Ron, Evan's barely ten. He's just a kid. What's the idea trying to teach him 'lessons' anyway?" John pulled a face that Molly giggled at, so he made a couple more.

"You sure you're not the kid?" Ron asked, and he turned to face him with his tongue still sticking out. Noticing this, he quickly tried to school his features into a more mature expression.

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, John, sometimes I think I room with a hyperactive child. You barely look in your twenties. I have to wonder sometimes…" Ron trailed off, and John dropped his gaze to the table.

The problem was, John Smith didn't know his proper age. Or rather, he couldn't really remember. He'd had an accident- the details, no one knew much less himself. And so, his memories, his past, his life…had become a bit blurry. He had trouble focusing on any particular piece, and names, faces, or places were almost completely out of reach.

Since he wasn't looking, John did not see the glare Molly fixed Ron with, causing the other man to flinch in guilt.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that, you know I'm only joking," he amended in his deep voice, and John raised his head back up, putting a smile on his face.

"Right, I know," he said.

"None of that really matters anyhow, you're my best mate."

"Of course." This time he actually managed a grin.

"But it's okay, you know," Molly broke in, reaching out to grasp his hand. "To feel upset about the accident. You don't have to pretend everything's fine." She looked at him beseechingly, trying to convey the importance of her words.

"Molly, everything _is_ fine. I'm fine, all thanks to you both. Ron's right, none of that stuff before matters. I wasn't anything- not before you two found me. I was really lucky there." He admitted, both serious and grateful.

It was humbling, really. The first clear, proper memory he had was of the two of them.

OoO

There were voices, echoing through the dark towards him. Right on the very edge of his awareness. One, panicky and breathy, high in pitch. The other, low and calming. Both human.

Well of course they were human. Why wouldn't they—

He groaned then, pain exploding into existence and felt himself squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"Ron, he's awake! Hello? Hello, can you hear me?"

He nodded, but then brought his arms up to cradle his head. His head hurt _so much_. Everything was aching. His nerves felt like they'd been fried, and yet bumps, bruises, and scrapes cried out. It was unbearable. Large, strong hands were gripping his shoulders, lifting him up from the—ground?

"Hey, we've got you. You're fine, you're safe—er, what's your name?"

"Ron! He's _hurt_."

"Sorry Molly."

"We have to- get him help—the clinic. C'mon!" He could feel himself moving; the strong person was carrying him? At the same time a small, delicate, warm hand slid up into his hair, brushing strands back from his forehead. "It'll be okay. Just relax, we're going to help you."

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who these people were. And he had no idea how he'd gotten this way. But he just…needed…a rest…

OoO

He'd woken up and properly met his saviors. Ron had come to the library to wait for Molly's shift to end. Together, they'd exited the building, only to find him collapsed on the front steps. No identification, no money, no phone. Dressed only in a shirt and tie and trousers in late September of 2013.

Molly and Ron had helped him get back on his feet. Ron had been looking for a flatmate to split the rent of a better, more expensive apartment, and the library where Molly worked was hiring. He'd spent a brief period of time in the local clinic recuperating from the unknown accident, and they had managed to find his information by searching through old orphanage records kept in library storage. John didn't think he could ever repay them.

"I just remembered, mate," Ron mentioned, swallowing down the last of his sandwich and wiping a napkin across his face, a smear left across one cheek. "Gran Gran wants you to come in for a checkup."

"Ah, do I have to?" He whined, and Molly giggled once more. "Really, I'm fine."

"Still, it's best to go," she reasoned. "You didn't exactly have normal symptoms, and we wouldn't want something to happen to you. Please, Johnny," she whispered again. Molly had always called him that. She claimed it suited him, so he let her since it seemed to make her happy.

He sighed in defeat, dropping his head. "Okay, I'll go see Gran Gran."

The next day found John at the clinic, waiting to be seen by someone. Gran Gran and her husband had started this local clinic back during the London Blitz, and it still remained family run. It was small and not the most high-tech, but the people were nice and Gran Gran had taken an immediate liking to him.

"John, dear," the elderly woman greeted in her kind voice. He bent to allow her to kiss both his cheeks, a gesture which he returned almost without thought.

"Here I am, Gran Gran," he said, spreading his arms wide in an invitation for her to examine.

"Yes, and still far too thin. Do you need me to write up a proper diet for you, young man? And that hair all over the place. I'd hoped Molly would have helped straighten you up a bit, but I do have a comb somewhere."

"Molly isn't- I mean—"

"Easy Granma, you'll wear him out before I even manage to have a go."

"Dr. Landy," he said turning to shake her hand. The woman in question unfolded her arms and accepted the handshake.

"Kate is fine, John. Now how's about you follow me to the back room." She took his height, weight, blood pressure, and temperature before placing the stethoscope in her ears. "Your heart sounds healthy. From what I can tell, most of the cuts and other injuries have healed up quite nicely. No sign of infections at all."

"That's good," he replied with a smile, sitting in the chair provided for him across from her.

"But you still don't recall how you received them?" She questioned, poised with clipboard and pen in her hand.

He shook his head sadly. "Nothing. I'm trying, Kate, really I am. But I just can't seem to remember any of it." He scratched at his cheek, a nervous tick he couldn't seem to shake. "And sometimes…Dr. Landy, you won't mention this to anyone?"

She leaned forward and grasped his hand, stopping its movement, and brought it down to rest on his lap. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, John. Nothing you say here will leave this room. I promise."

"Well, it's just…sometimes I think- I think I might not even want to remember." He tried to gauge her reaction, but Kate Landy was certainly a professional.

"The mind is a very complex thing, John. Memories are part of that. It will do no good to force them back. The best we can hope for is that they return on their own. If that's not really worrying you, then I'd suggest you try not to think about it. Just let it happen." She explained it all calmly, with a sort of detachment to the words. Then Kate squeezed his hand once. "Ok?"

John nodded, releasing her hand and getting to his feet. "So that's everything, yes?"

"Yes. I just stick this in with your file," she waved the paper on the clipboard, "and that's it. Come back anytime if something changes or you need anything."

"Right, of course. Thank you, Kate." He left the room, stopping to hug Gran Gran on the way out, and began the walk home. "There, nothing to worry about. I'm fine, I don't need memories, who needs memories? They couldn't have been all that important if I just forgot them, anyway. So stop thinking about it, she said to stop. You're stopping now. You're just going to think about something else…like how you're now talking to yourself." He snarled in frustration at himself for not being able to just _be normal_.

"There's no hope for me at all, is there?" He turned his gaze up toward the moon. But there was no one but himself to answer him, so he continued on his way. Ron would be tetchy if he was late.

**So that's a look at the human life of the Doctor. I hope you like Molly and Ron, they're in it for the long haul guys. Next chapter we'll go back to the Ponds, as they begin the final task their Time Lord friend assigned them. Thanks again for all the feedback and for taking the time to read, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm glad people are enjoying the fic so far. Now for the fun part where Amy and Rory start meeting their predecessors. **

**After thinking about it for quite a while, I've decided to include Sarah Jane; I know Elizabeth Sladen has passed away, but as far as I can tell they haven't acknowledged it like they did with the Brigadier. Also, I really do like her character so leaving her out would have felt wrong somehow. For anyone who hasn't seen the SJA episode "Death of the Doctor", she, along with previous companion Jo Grant, has met the 11th Doctor. I've read that Sarah Jane has a sort-of adopted daughter, but I've only ever seen Luke so that's what I'm sticking with. I hope this is ok with everyone, and enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Four**

Amy collapsed into the pilot's chair after a particularly draining visit. Sure, meeting the unaging Cambridge professor Ian and Barbara had been interesting, and many of the Doctor's other friends had been…unusual. But spending a whole morning with a sobbing Jo Grant and her giant hippie family was exhausting.

At first the older woman had refused to believe it. Apparently something like this had happened before, while the two of them had been on another honeymoon. But the Doctorless TARDIS and the video of his last moments as a Time Lord eventually wore her down, and Rory had suddenly found himself with an armful of crying companion. As usual, her husband awkwardly patted the woman's back and Amy came to the rescue with tissues and a strong cup of tea.

"I saw him…not long ago. So full of life—and looking like a baby! You- you're the Ponds?" She wiped her eyes and observed them both.

"Yeah. How'd you know that?" Amy asked, curious.

Jo gave a watery smile. "He mentioned you. Big, happy grin on his young face. No married couples on the TARDIS. That was the old rule." She took both of their hands. "He must have liked you two a lot to make an exception."

All right. So maybe that was the reason she was currently curled up on the beat-up chair. She just missed her Raggedy Doctor so much.

She lifted her head to locate Rory and ask him who was next, but the words died from her lips when she noticed his position. The Last Centurion was sitting, hunched over, on the steps leading up to the consol, his head resting on his arms. And it sounded like he was sniffling.

"Rory?" Amy asked tentatively, getting up and moving to sit beside her husband. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her and his were red and watery, but none of the tears had spilled over. "He didn't have to keep us. He knew we were getting married and even when we were, he let us stay. He- he wanted _both_ of us to stay. I'd always thought maybe he only tolerated me, but- but—"

"Rory." She wrapped her arms around him and let him hide his face in her long hair. "Oh Rory." They did not move for some time, not until footsteps could be heard approaching from down the corridor. River emerged holding a tray.

"I thought I heard you come in. Figured you might need some tea." Amy smiled in gratitude at her daughter.

"Tea sounds nice, yeah."

River had been granted leave from the university for her ordeal at the Library, which would carry over into the school's summer holiday. She certainly needed the time. When Amy and Rory had started on this last series of journeys, their usually adventurous daughter had surprised them by staying on the TARDIS. She flew the ship to their destination and would then retreat to her room, never seeing or speaking with the Doctor's old friends. Amy supposed the archeologist did not want to constantly be reminded of her husband's…ended existence. She didn't know if that was good or bad, or if River's attitude was even healthy. She and Rory weren't exactly an example of the perfect couple, after all. But if her daughter wanted to be alone, she would give her the space she needed.

Rory glanced at his watch after finishing his cup, seeming to have calmed after his lapse into insecurity. "I think we could go see someone else. It's just past noon." They were only using the TARDIS as a normal space ship at the moment. None of the Ponds wanted to deal with the headache that travelling through time would cause to their mission. Imagine if they wound up bequeathing something to a person who hadn't even met the Doctor yet!

And Amy knew if she just started to think about time travel…she'd be tempted to try and fix this. And unfortunately, he'd made it far too clear why she could not.

So with a steadying sigh, she walked to the monitor. "Ok, who's next?" A name flashed on the screen above an address. _Sarah Jane Smith, 13 Bannerman Road_. "River, do you mind…?" She let the question trail as her daughter stared at the monitor. The woman then shook her head as if to clear it, curls flying this way and that.

"No, of course not." With spectacular efficiency River piloted the TARDIS as Amy and Rory stood calmly. Not being jostled about, not wincing at sparking wires, not having to hold on for dear life. The Doctor had called them the blue boringers and she was starting to agree with his sentiment. "We're here," the professor informed her parents, and then surprised them by actually walking to the doors.

"River, you're coming?" Rory couldn't keep from asking in bewilderment.

"Uh huh, this one's special," was the cryptic reply, before she swung open the door and stepped out. Not to be outdone by her own daughter, Amy followed while grabbing Rory by the arm and dragging him out of the police box.

"Er, River?" Amy started, looking around in confusion. Rory helpfully finished for her.

"We've landed in someone's attic."

"I know," she told them. That was all she said, because then they were interrupted by a loud, embarrassingly cheesy fanfare as a wall literally opened to reveal—

"Is that…a computer? That's a computer!" Amy could only gape at the massive thing. And then it _spoke_.

"TARDIS identified. Welcome, Doctor." Things only grew more bizarre as they were blinded by a flash of light near the floor. When she finished blinking the spots from her eyes, she looked to see- not possible.

"Master?" What could only be described as a robot…animal asked.

River bent down to the dog's level. "Hello," she said sweetly, "you must be K-9."

"K-9?" Rory repeated numbly.

"Oh my god, he wasn't joking," Amy murmured, not able to take her eyes of the machine. "He really did have a robot dog."

"You are not Master," said the thing as River stood back up, its tone never wavering. "Where is Master?"

"Sarah Jane, you have visitors," said the giant computer. Sarah Jane, the woman they were supposed to be seeing. Right. But a robot dog!

"Yes, Mr. Smith!" A woman called up a set of stairs, and then they heard her footsteps. She emerged, dressed smartly in a blouse, vest, and suit pants. "Afternoon," she greeted primly. "I'd ask how you got in here, but—" Her eyes flickered to the TARDIS and she gave a little smile. "So, what does the Doctor need? I know none of you are him."

Amy supposed the woman was referring to regeneration. So she'd met other Doctors? Still, she was curious to know why she was so confident in her ability to identify the alien. "Why not?"

Here, Sarah Jane Smith's lips turned up in a fond smile. "He'd be all over K-9," she answered simply. Oh, right. His dog. Amy had seen people and their pets, but the idea of behaving that way towards a metal contraption…well, it was something only the Doctor would do.

"Where is Master?" The robot repeated. Sarah Jane nodded in agreement with its question.

"And I presume you three have something to tell me?"

"Er, right," Rory said with a start. "I'm Rory, this is my wife, Amy, and our daughter, River." If Sarah Jane thought it was odd that their daughter appeared a good bit older than them, she didn't show it. Instead, she shook each of her hands.

"Sarah Jane Smith, pleased to meet you. The Ponds, yes?"

"Well—" Rory began.

"Yeah, that's us," Amy confirmed.

"Yeah," her husband concurred in defeat.

"May I ask why the Doctor isn't with you at the moment?" Her gaze went over their heads and to the blue box behind them, as if waiting for the mad man to burst forth. Amy and Rory exchanged a glance. This was always the worst part. After the introductions had been made, that question would inevitably be asked and they had to explain. It was like taking a knife and stabbing it through the practically stranger's heart.

"He's- gone," Amy admitted. It was always very complicated, because they could not lie and say he was dead, but merely saying he was gone seemed to leave this tiny sort of spark of disbelief or wild hope in the other person.

"Where?" A frown marred the woman's still quite pretty features, and Amy mused that Sarah Jane must have been absolutely beautiful when she was young.

And so it began again. The situation in the Library, the actions he'd taken to save River, and where that left him now. She seemed to follow it better than others, and by the end was rapidly blinking back tears.

"You said, he left something to me?" She finally asked.

"Yeah, in his- will," Amy spoke that last word on a whisper.

"Well then, after you," Sarah Jane gestured to the TARDIS, and all four went inside. She looked about with the same amazement, wonder, and happiness that each of them felt for the ship, and lightly patted a railing. They gave her the pilot's chair, and Amy went to stand beside River as Rory started up the video.

"He might, er, look a bit different than you remember—" he started, as they had had that confusion in the past.

"Brown hair, tweed jacket, and a bowtie?" Sarah Jane interrupted with a brief description. Rory nodded. "I've seen him."

"Next, is to Sarah Jane Smith," the recorded Doctor said with a large smile. "Oh, Sarah Jane. Look at you. _Look_ at you! You never stop! Doesn't matter if you're travelling the universe, or just on 13 Bannerman Road. You keep on investigating- keep on helping- keep on protecting and saving the people you care about, and then some. You're magnificent! You've got a loving family, tremendous friends that don't mind getting body-swapped to distant wastelands, and yet you still manage to save the planet on a regular basis!" He finished on an incredulous laugh.

"It's hardly anything that impressive," Sarah Jane said, but she was smiling at the praise none the less.

"You've brought me so much happiness by being my friend, Sarah Jane," the Doctor confided, "And it's time I gave you something in return. My gift to you is two things. For starters, I am returning that warp star to you."

"Oh, don't do that," the woman breathed, looking away almost ashamed.

"I know you're not proud of what almost happened on the Crucible, and I can't say I was all that happy you would consider it. But I understood your reasoning. Simply put, Sarah Jane, I'd failed. I'd failed, and there weren't many options left. And now, in the future should you need me, I'll fail to appear. Again. And I am so very sorry about that."

"You've nothing to be sorry about," she muttered, shaking her head vehemently.

"The point is, I trust you with that warp star. I trust that should you ever need it, you'll use it in the right way." He lifted what could only be this 'warp star' into view on the screen. "Plus, it is rather pretty to look at."

Sarah Jane chuckled weakly and wiped at her eyes.

"My second gift to you is a maintenance kit for K-9. I've trusted him to your care for this long, but I might as well do this for my faithful dog." He stopped in thought for a moment, likely reminiscing, and he continued in a softer voice.

"Oh Sarah Jane Smith. You've done so much- seen so much with your life. I could hardly be prouder. Luke ought to be proud to be your son. You've seen me at some of my best—some of my worst. I've come to you with so many faces, and yet, each time you welcome me with open arms."

The Doctor passed a hand over his eyes and managed a smile. "Thank you. My Sarah Jane." He said it with such reverence Amy thought she might start crying. Sarah Jane already was. In the video the Doctor blinked several times, took a deep shuddering breath, and collected himself.

"Okay, um, next is—" Rory reached forward silently and pressed pause. For a long moment, no one spoke.

"I'll go and, er, get the- the things," her husband offered, heading down the corridor to the room the TARDIS was stowing all the Doctor's last gifts in.

"I'm not the first on this list, correct? And not the last?" Amy nodded, and the brunette dried her tears, a satisfied smile on her face. "I told him once. He has the _biggest_ family on Earth." She turned towards River. "I think that's what he's trying to show you. You're not alone; we all knew and loved him."

River smiled and wiped at her eyes. 'Thank you." It was barely a whisper. Sarah Jane stood from the pilot's chair and took both of their hands. "I'd like it if you could stay- just for a little while. It's been some time since I've really had company—my son's studying at university."

Amy almost said no, but… "Yeah, I think we'd like that. Thanks." They were exiting the TARDIS as Rory returned carrying the items.

"Aren't we leav—"

"Come on, stupid face, we're having tea."

Five hours passed—"and I said, 'Did you wish _really_ hard?'" The three women dissolved into peals of laughter as Rory chuckled in remembrance. "And _then_…she said…" Amy struggled to get out between laughs, "she said, 'Hello, I'm _Sexy_.'" It was a few good minutes before any of them could manage much more than literally convulsing with laughter.

"I _knew_ he was in love with his ship!" Sarah Jane managed with conviction, and then fell back into giggles.

It was with tears, smiles, and many hugs that the Ponds returned to the TARDIS. "Come visit anytime," the older woman told them, and Amy was pretty sure she would be taking her up on that offer.

River started the dematerialization process in a much brighter mood than usual, and she couldn't help but to find herself agreeing with the investigator. She had been looking on this task as something painful and sad, but perhaps what she should be doing was thinking of it as an opportunity to meet simply amazing people and learn more about her friend to help fill the void his absence left. Perhaps that had been his intention all along.

"We're back," their daughter announced, and the three Ponds walked out onto their back lawn in Leadworth.

"Just as I suspected, the disturbance in the Rift was centered here," said an unfamiliar voice. "Now I'm going to need an explanation."

**Aaaand that's chapter four! I hope I did Sarah Jane (and Jo Grant) justice! I'll be interested to see if anyone guesses who the stranger is—sorry for the cliffhanger. Who knows, it might be obvious to you, but let me know what you think. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm glad to hear I'm doing a good job with the story and characterizations. Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and of course reviews! I always feel guilty leaving off on a cliff hanger, so here goes the next chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Five**

They stared at each other, neither seeming to want to make the first move. The stranger appeared to be waiting for some kind of response. Amy was finding it difficult to do anything but stare at the gun in the holster at his hip, and assumed her family was having the same trouble.

"Well," the man said at last, and it struck her suddenly that his accent was decidedly American. To be perfectly frank, he was reminding her a bit of Canton, although something in this man's eyes seemed much more mischievous. "A bit unfortunate about the nose, Doc," the stranger smirked, "But not too bad overall."

Amy blinked. Was he talking to Rory?

"Uh- no, no, I'm not—I mean, he's- I'm just—" She rolled her eyes at her husband's stammering and started the introductions for him.

"I'm Amy Pond, this is my husband, Rory, and my daughter, River."

"Oh," said the man in realization. He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, haven't seen him in a while and when you see a guy walk out of the TARDIS you sort of assume…" he shrugged easily and his mouth stretched into a friendly grin. "Captain Jack Harkness. Pleasure to meet all of you." As he removed his hand from the pocket of the great coat he wore in order to shake their hands each in turn, Amy couldn't help but suspect he was taking _great_ pleasure in it.

"Thanks," she smirked right back.

"You were saying about a Rift?" Rory interrupted, and she pouted at him.

"Yes I was. You see, Mr. Pond—"

"Williams," Rory asserted for once, and Amy could tell that her husband had not taken a liking to the Captain at all. Not this again.

"What?"

"My name is Rory Williams," was the short reply.

"Ok. So, Rory Williams, Amy Pond, and River…?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly at their daughter.

"I'm neither," she informed him. "Professor River Song."

"Well, Professor," Captain Jack said with a charming grin. "A beautiful name to go with a beautiful face."

River actually laughed. "Oh, I can see why he never wanted us to meet."

He raised a dark eyebrow again, leaning in as if intrigued, but she suspected it was mostly a ploy to get closer to the blonde. "And 'he' would be?"

Their daughter's brief good mood seemed to diminish slightly as she sighed. "The Doctor."

The American, on the other hand, seemed to brighten considerably. "So you're friends with him? Good, I was starting to think maybe you'd stolen the TARDIS or something, in which case I was going to have to bring you in. No offense."

"None taken," Rory said, and Amy recognized his tone and posture as Rory the Roman. "The Rift, Captain."

"Right!" Replied the other man. "I guess he hasn't explained this to you, but—"

"The TARDIS feeds on Rift energy, like a car uses gasoline. If I were to take a guess, I would say that your job includes monitoring the Rift located in Cardiff, and something has caused unusual readings which you then tracked to the TARDIS here."

He stared, obviously impressed, as a smile smoothly took over his features. "I can see why you're a professor. Yep, we've been getting spikes and drops in the levels since sometime last fall. It's difficult to pinpoint the exact date, but earlier this week they finally leveled out and I got a fix on this location."

"So the TARDIS kept using up lots of Rift energy, and then what? Expelled it back out again?" Amy knew she was out of her depth, and maybe it was a stupid question. But she'd always found that trying to puzzle it out aloud helped, even in small ways. Though usually, because something she would say ended up just 'clicking' in the Doctor's head, allowing him to put the other pieces into place for her.

"I really don't know. That's why when I saw the TARDIS, I figured the Doctor would be able to explain." His hands found their way back into his coat pockets, and Amy idly wondered why he wore such a heavy thing in springtime. "Where is he?"

"Did you know him? Well?" River asked after a pause.

"I'd like to think so," the man replied. "Though not as well as I'd like," he added with an eyebrow waggle, and Amy raised her eyebrow in return as her husband spluttered incredulously.

"Definitely can see why we haven't met," River simply repeated, before adding in a more serious voice, "I think we have something to show you, then."

He followed them readily into the TARDIS, eyes widening slightly at the interior. He let out an appreciative whistle. "Redecorated a bit. I'm liking the glass floor, though." Amy blushed faintly, remembering the incident with her skirt and the thermo-couplings. Judging by Rory's expression, he was thinking of that as well.

"You, uh, haven't seen him since he regenerated, then?" She asked, searching for a change of topic.

"Guess not. Figures." The American came to stand in front of the monitor, where the Doctor was still paused on screen. "This him?" Amy nodded, and watched as the man gave her best friend what could only be called a once-over. "He did pretty well for himself. Almost adorable, really," he assessed with a teasing smile.

"You should've seen him face down an army," River merely said, and he turned to her with a grin.

"Bet I'd like that."

"I bet you would."

"There's just a little problem, Professor." Just like that the cheerful glint was out of his eyes, and Amy felt herself tense up in apprehension. "You three keep referring to the Doctor in the past tense. Why?"

"Because that's the only way we can refer to him now," River said simply, completely serious as well.

"What am I supposed to be watching?" Her daughter turned away and so Amy swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"His will."

Captain Jack Harkness made a sort of strangled sound in the back of his throat, but remained quiet as Rory restarted the video.

"Jack Harkness. Captain Jack. Like the new face?" The Doctor asked, looking side to side and opening his mouth almost comically wide. He then sighed tiredly. "I almost sent for your help, Jack, a while back now. But I thought perhaps I'd troubled you enough for one lifetime…especially with all things considered." He glanced guiltily at the screen and scratched at one cheek for a couple seconds. "Anyway, it'll hardly make up for anything, but I thought I would at least bestow this final gift to you." He grinned a little cheekily. "Or I should say, re-bestow! River, you might have noticed something missing from your arsenal." The archeologist in question nodded in agreement. "Well, you may have gotten it from the TARDIS, but that doesn't mean you get to keep it," he shook his finger at the screen in a mock-scolding sort of way. "So Jack, I'm returning your squareness gun to you."

Jack gave a somewhat surprised laugh. "I'd completely forgotten about that thing. Wow, after all this time…" He seemed lost in some distant memories, but the Doctor's voice seemed to pull him back to the present.

"Jack, sometimes I wonder if I've ever truly been sorrier about anything. I may not have directly had anything to do with making you what you are, but you were my friend. I shouldn't have abandoned you." The Doctor had a look of such remorse on his face, and Amy looked between the two men. "It was so very wrong of me, but there's nothing I can do now to fix it. Asking for your forgiveness would be entirely too much. But I sincerely hope that you continue to be as brilliant as you can be. I have absolute faith in you, Captain, to be there when I can't. I feel privileged to have spent the time I did with you, fixed point or not," he ended with a fond smile.

Rory moved to hit pause, but the Doctor suddenly jumped as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. He pointed a warning finger at the screen as he spoke at a fast pace, "But, Jack, I know you- please just don't—River, she- I mean I—" He broke off with the most baffled look on his face. "What am I even…is this what being jealous feels like? Rory, is this it?" The completely out-of-his-comfort-zone alien demanded in an almost panicked voice. Amy grinned at her husband while Rory fidgeted uncomfortably. "How…humany-wumany of me. Oh, I don't even know what's come over me," he buried both hands in his hair, causing it to fluff out even more.

The TARDIS in the recording gave another comforting hum and he looked up.

"Yes, you're right, old girl. Best to move on. Let's see, then…" Rory paused it for real this time, and they all stood around for a moment.

"Er, I'll get the, uh, squareness gun then, shall I?" Rory suggested awkwardly before practically fleeing the consol room.

"It's…a bit complicated. He's not really dead, he just…had to change. Into a human, and he can't remember us or anything anymore. We don't know where he is—when he is, really. But- he's gone," Amy finished somewhat lamely. Jack nodded once, a sad frown marring his rather handsome features. Then he looked up at River.

"Any particular reason you're off-limits, Professor?" He questioned.

River, who had been dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, stopped and said in a wavering voice, "Funny you should ask. It's just—I'm a married woman."

Amy thought that the Captain's eyes might pop out of his skull. "_Really_ not going to say what I'm thinking right now."

"Appreciate it," Rory said gruffly from the stairs. He walked over to the American and handed him a box, which Jack then opened.

"Never thought I'd actually see this again," he murmured, taking out what Amy presumed to be the squareness gun.

"It was quite useful," River commented. The Captain holstered this weapon as well.

"Has he been doing this chronologically?" He waved in the general direction of the monitor.

"We think, yeah," Amy replied.

"Then I'm pretty sure the next name will be Martha Jones. Maybe even Mickey Mouse, don't know if the Doc knew about them getting together. Has he mentioned a Mickey Smith?" He questioned, and Amy felt relieved that he hadn't actually been talking about Mickey Mouse. You could never tell with the Doctor.

"No," Rory told him.

"I guess he did know. Well, they'll be your next stop. But you don't need to worry about that."

"Why not?" Amy asked, frowning at the almost ominous statement.

"Because UNIT's probably going to get here first." Was the simple response.

"And what's UNIT?" Rory inquired apprehensively.

"A government agency that deals with anything alien. They've likely been monitoring the Rift levels, too. So they'll be right behind me. You'll get a knock on your door no later than tomorrow morning." He flashed what was supposed to be a comforting smile, but none of the Ponds felt at ease.

"And what exactly will they do?" Rory continued, nearly interrogating.

"Hopefully, nothing," Jack told them brightly.

"Well what should _we_ do, then?" Amy cut in, crossing her arms.

"You could put me up for the night and I could help you deal with them when they get here," he suggested.

Amy, Rory, and River all looked at each other. Captain Jack Harkness seemed to know what he was talking about with this UNIT. And Amy had the strangest suspicion they were going to need help.

"We have a guest bedroom, yeah," she told him.

He grinned. "Great."

OoO

John turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to his flat to find Ron and Molly sitting on the couch, obviously having just finished a movie as the credits played on the rather small television.

"Johnny!" Molly greeted, getting to her feet and rushing over to help him with his bags.

"I stopped to get some groceries after work, we were out of tea," he informed Ron. "Thanks, Molly," he added as she took one of the bags. She smiled prettily as he walked into the kitchen, opening cupboards and putting things away. "What were you watching?"

"Borrowed a DVD off one of the mates," Ron said, meaning his coworkers. "We just finished. Do you want to see if anything's on the telly?"

"Oh but, Ron, I wanted to see the deleted scenes," he heard Molly say, and would have seen her fix his flat mate with a pleading look. "Do you mind?"

"No, course not," Ron said readily.

"Thank you!" Molly cheered, passing John on her way to the kitchen with the grocery bag. "I'll just be a minute."

"Ok," Ron said with a grin, scrolling through the menu options to 'Bonus Features'. He left the remote highlighted on 'Deleted Scenes' as they waited for Molly.

"So," John started, "just invited Molly over for a movie night?"

"What?" Ron asked sharply, jumping and not quite meeting his eyes. "Yeah, just movies, you know. Nothing special."

"What a great idea!" John congratulated his friend. "We should do this more often."

"Er, yeah," Ron said. John turned to look at the screen, as the other man didn't seem to be in a talkative mood. He scanned the screen with his eyes, but they stopped on something in the bottom hand corner.

"What's that?" He asked aloud, crouching down in front of the television.

"What's what?" Ron asked, but he hardly registered it.

"X marks the spot…" he murmured, reaching out a hand as though to trace the tiny X in the corner. He stopped and then reached into—_not a pocket_—his hand flailed behind him on the coffee table before his fingers brushed something. John traced the pixels on the screen with the eraser of the pencil he had grabbed, not even entirely sure why he was doing it.

"Mate, what are you doing?" Ron said, giving a somewhat nervous laugh.

"Checking something," he replied without even turning to face him.

"Well, you need the remote to do that," his flat mate reminded him. He blinked, and looked down at the simple pencil still held aloft in his own hand. John let it fall to the floor as he backed up slowly, coming to stand by the couch.

"Right, of course," he nodded in agreement. His eyes soon locked back onto the X, however, and he said in a low, quiet, deliberate voice, "Ron."

"What?" His friend asked, looking at him rather oddly.

"Hand me the remote."

"Ok," his friend said, his lips quirking up a little as he did as requested. "Why?"

"Because I think there's something hidden on this DVD," he declared, scrolling down past the options- and highlighting the tiny X.

"Well- yeah. There're called Easter eggs, John. Good eye, though, I didn't even see that one." John didn't answer. Instead, he pushed the 'Enter' button.

Molly came back into the front room just as the screen changed to a reddish-brown background. "Who's that?" She asked, pointing to a man on the screen who had just sat down. He had wild brown hair, wore a brown pinstripe suit, and was just placing a pair of glasses on his face.

"Probably some movie expert or something," Ron suggested.

"Yep, that's me," said the man on the screen, and all three friends jumped.

"He can hear us!" Molly squeaked, hands covering her mouth in shock.

"A bonus feature that replies to what you say?" John mused, running a hand through his floppy hair, and unintentionally making it stick up somewhat like this mystery DVD person.

"Yes, I do." Molly gasped at this declaration, but Ron was shaking his head.

"He can't, Molly, he's just saying that," his sandy-haired friend gestured for her to take a seat on the couch, and Molly pulled John down with her.

"Yep," said the man, almost cheekily adding, "and this."

"I don't like this!" Molly cried, clutching John's arm. Sandwiched between his two friends, he watched as Ron grabbed for the DVD case.

"Ok, Bonus Features. Deleted Scenes, Outtakes, Language Options, Trail—"

"Are you going to read out the whole thing?" The man asked, looking both bored and amused. Ron fumbled the DVD case in surprise.

"Well then, who are you?" John demanded, not sure why he was acting so bold. A strange feeling was coursing through him, part fear and part…excitement? It was almost like when he would race Molly in restocking the library shelves, but so very different.

Right now, he felt very much alive.

"I'm a time-traveler," said the man simply, and John practically felt his jaw drop. Of all the answers he had been expecting, that was no where on the list. "Or I was," the stranger amended. "I'm stuck…in 1969."

Before any of them could say anything in reply, a woman forced herself into the camera frame, correcting her friend, "_We're_ stuck. All of space and time, he promised me, and now I've got a job in a shop. I've got to support him!"

He couldn't move, frozen in shock against the back of the couch as he stared, transfixed, at the young, dark-skinned woman.

"Martha!" The man next to her admonished, gesturing at the screen. Martha glanced away guiltily.

"Sorry," she muttered, and disappeared from view. Some part of him wanted to tell them to hang on, go back, because how could that man have just dismissed her like that? No gratitude, no nothing, just—and she was brilliant! How could he- why could he—

What on Earth did John Smith care so much about a DVD extra named Martha for?

Ron had found his voice again, as he asked the man on the screen, "Are you mad?"

"Quite possibly," the man replied, not seeming to mind the rather rude question.

"And you're just ok with that?" Molly piped up incredulously, tightening her grip on John's arm at the prospect of conversing with a mad man.

"'Fraid so," was the easy reply.

"Just some mad old man, then?" John asked in disbelief. "Bit young to be that far gone," he remarked with a nod to the screen.

"38," the man replied, sounding almost offended.

"A 38 year-old mad man who thinks he's a time traveler? How does that even work?" He questioned, even as Molly whined at him to please stop.

The man on the screen sighed in frustration. "People don't understand time. It's not what you think it is."

"Oh yeah," said Ron, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "What is it then?"

"Complicated." Was the single-word response.

"How so?" He joined his friend in asking.

"Very complicated," the man replied, his tone brokering no argument.

Forget that. "Well if you're so clever to understand it, explain it then. I'm listening," he folded his arms across his chest, made more difficult by Molly's vice-like hold on his upper-left arm.

Seeming to give in, the man said, "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect... but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff." He gradually slowed down in the middle until he quite literally trailed off at the end.

Ron snorted. "Nice one, mate."

"It got away from me, yeah," the man admitted.

"I really don't like this," Molly said nervously. "He- he can't really hear us. He just can't."

"Well I can hear you," the man insisted earnestly, and she gave a little wail of despair.

"Come off it, no you can't," John disagreed, very aware of the stress this all seemed to be causing Molly.

"Well, not hear you exactly, but I know everything that you're going to say."

Perhaps this was worse. "How?"

The man almost smiled. "Look to your left."

All three of them turned to see the open window. "Oh my god," Molly breathed, completely white with fear. Ron's face was contorted into a livid expression as he went over to the window and began looking up and down the street.

"We're on the second floor," his sandy-haired friend muttered furiously. "What is it, a camera?"

"I've got a copy of the finished transcript, it's on my autocue," the man informed them.

"But it can't be finished yet," he felt the need to argue.

"I told you, I'm a time traveler! I got it in the future." The man really did smile that time, and for a split second he felt rather stupid.

"You said you were stuck in 1969," he reminded.

All he got was a dismissive wave of the hand. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey."

"Seriously, what is it. A bug? Is there a microphone in the flat?" Ron demanded, still searching around the window.

"What matters is that we can communicate," the man continued. "We have got big problems now. They have taken the blue box, haven't they? The Angels have the phone box."

Blue box…? He shook his head in bewilderment.

"Johnny, you ok?" Molly asked gently, removing her hand from his arm to place it on his shoulder.

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. "Angels?" He questioned the television.

"Lonely Assassins, they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from, but they're as old as the Universe, or very nearly, and they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved," the man lectured. "They're quantum-locked. They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone." A sudden thought seemed to occur to him. "'Course, a stone can't kill you either, but... then you turn your head away. Then you blink, and oh yes it can."

"What's he on about stone angels and boxes for? I haven't seen anything!" Ron remarked coming back to the couch.

"Nor me," Molly was quick to agree.

"I…I don't- I don't think I've—" John didn't know why, but the speech had filled him with a kind of cold dread. "What do they look like?" He asked the screen, with an urgency he didn't understand.

"That's why they cover their eyes. They're not weeping; they can't risk  
looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. Loneliest creatures in the Universe." He paused, and a regretful look appeared on his face. "And I'm sorry. I am very, very sorry- it's up to you now."

"What? What's up to us?" He almost stood from the couch, but Molly pulled him back.

"Johnny, stop it, there's no such thing. He's mad, he's some sort of mad man- or, or, a joke. Someone's trying to scare us," she reasoned.

If his bluff had been called, the strange man ignored it and answered John instead. "The blue box; it's my time machine. There is a world of time energy in there that they could feast on forever, but the damage they would do could switch off a sun. You have got to send it back to me."

"How? Where?" He asked, and hadn't realized he was now back to crouching in front of the television.

"Stop it, just stop it," Molly moaned from her place curled up on the couch.

"And that's it, I'm afraid. There's no more from you on the transcript, that's the last I've got," the man said, removing his glasses as he spoke. "I don't know what stopped you talking but I can guess. They're coming. The Angels are coming for you, but listen -your life could depend on this..." He leaned in even closer, his heart practically thundering in his ears.

"Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you could believe. _Don't_ turn your back, _Don't_ look away, and _don't blink_," was the command. "Good luck." The video froze, but John thought he saw the man wink before it stopped.

"There," said Ron after a moment. "Nonsense. Just nonsense, see? Someone's having one over us or something."

"Johnny?" Molly appeared to have recovered somewhat, though she was still incredibly pale. "Johnny, you're shaking."

"What?" He looked down and realized she was telling the truth. His fingers twitched, his arms and legs trembled, and shivers kept going up and down his spine. "Oh," he said rather lamely.

"Tea," she said decidedly. "We need tea." Molly retreated once more into the kitchen, and John got to his feet unsteadily. He ducked his head out the window, looking up and down and side to side.

"I already checked, mate. There's nothing there. It's got to be some kind of bug, but I can't see it. No camera, no hidden mic—certainly no Angels or- what was it?"

"A blue box. Telephone box," he supplied absently, still looking, because he couldn't bring himself to turn away. His wide eyes were watering with the effort of staying open.

Ron placed a hand on his back, obviously meant to both comfort and steer him away from the window, but—

_Stone fingers clenched in his collar. Do. Not. **Blink**._

He ripped away and flattened his back against the nearest wall, breaths coming out in harsh gasps as he stared absolutely terrified at his friend.

"John, calm down!"

"Johnny." He looked at Molly's eyes and tear-streaked face. "Please."

John slid down the wall, collapsed in a shuddering heap as he took great gulps of air. Ron was right, it was a hoax. There were no Angels, no box, the nameless mad man was just an actor. Had to be. Why was he letting this get to him?

Molly knelt in front of him, pressing a warm cup of tea into his hands. "Johnny…close your eyes."

"No," he blurted, tensing up again.

"Just for a second, Johnny. You have to. Please. I'll be right here." She placed her hands over his wrapped around the tea cup. John swallowed, took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. They'd barely closed before he snapped them open again to find—

Molly still in front of him with Ron standing close behind. Fine. Completely fine.

"Of course you are," Ron agreed, and he hadn't realized he had spoken it.

"See? It's ok," Molly said soothingly. She seemed quite relieved and wound her arms around him.

"I'm fine. Really. I'm completely alright. Fine," he mumbled, his head being buried in her shoulder.

Molly didn't leave until he had finished all of the tea and been sent to bed. He was alone for some time as Ron had walked her home, and jumped underneath his bed sheets when he heard the door of their flat open. John managed to relax as he recognized the familiar sounds of his flat mate moving about getting ready for and going to bed.

But he did not sleep.

**I didn't intend for this to be so long…but I wanted to show what John and friends were up to. I've often wondered how many other people had 'conversations' with the Doctor's Easter egg aside from Sally Sparrow and Lawrence Nightingale. If it ever did happen, those unfortunates are probably paranoid for life. Anyway, now that Jack and the Ponds have teamed up, what are they going to do about UNIT? Thanks so much for reading, and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the response so far, everybody, I really appreciate it. I'm kind of psyched to write all this upcoming character interaction, so here goes! If I'm getting my timelines right—which is really difficult with this show—I think Martha and Mickey are married by 2010. Huh, popular year for companions, Amy and Rory, Martha and Mickey, and I think Donna marries Shaun Temple in the spring of that year too! Odd…anyway, on with the story!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Six**

Amy had not really slept at all, and she suspected the same of her family, due to the supposedly impending visit from a government agency she knew nothing about. Their guest, the Captain, did not appear to be having that problem as he was the only one still asleep early that morning. His footsteps were heard on the stairs, however, as Amy finished making a breakfast of bacon and eggs, and he took a seat at the table with Rory and River.

"Everybody ready?" He asked cheerfully, and she noted that he wore a short-sleeve button-up shirt with suspenders under his coat which he had yet to put on. It was strange seeing someone who looked younger than ninety other than the Doctor sporting braces, and she hastened to answer him in order to distract herself.

"I'm not exactly sure what we're supposed to be ready for. They going to break down the door?"

"Not without a warrant, I should hope," River remarked, and Jack chuckled.

"That should take them a while to get, they're a bureaucracy." He leaned back in his chair, not paying any mind to the frown that appeared on Rory's face, and said, "No, they'll just isolate your house, ask you for your time, and question you incessantly while they examine the TARDIS. Looks like they've already started on step one."

"Sorry, what?" Rory asked, rising to look out the window. Amy swiftly joined him, and saw for herself. There was a large, black trailer parked outside their house, and some people in military dress complete with guns seemed to be setting up a perimeter around the place with caution tape. "Oh no—oh, the neighbors are going to think we've been arrested. That's just great," Rory grumbled, but Amy made for the front door. "A- Amy!"

"Steady mother, this family doesn't have the best record with the law," River warned, even as she matched her mother's determined stride across the front lawn.

"Alright, what do you think you're doing?" Amy shouted, and everyone within twenty feet of her stopped. "I'll have you know that I am Amy Pond, and this is my house—a generous gift from a friend, but mine—and you can't just cage us in like this!"

"Uh," said Rory, who had followed and stood just behind her, "What she said. I mean," he amended at her threatening glare, "we are British citizens…we have rights. So- so, I want to speak to your commanding officer immediately."

A couple of the soldiers shifted on their feet, and one of them even started back to the trailer.

"Wow, I might not have been needed after all. Good work," Jack complimented.

"They are my parents," River agreed proudly, and Amy smiled at her.

"What else have you got in common?" Jack asked with interest.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she smirked. The American opened his mouth to reply, but a woman in all black with dark skin and hair stepped forward from the crowd.

"Jack?"

"Martha Jones!" Jack greeted warmly, and the woman smiled as he lifted her in a hug.

"Oi, that's Smith, now!" Said another man, dressed similarly to the woman.

"Sure it isn't Mouse, Mickey?" The Captain quipped, and the man scoffed.

"Oh, thanks for that, Cheesecake," the man called Mickey retorted, offering his hand which Jack shook.

"Beefcake," he corrected.

"Alright, that's enough, you two," Martha interrupted with a look of fond exasperation. "Mind telling us what you're doing here and what's going on?"

"Mind telling me what you two are doing with UNIT again? Thought you were freelancing." There was a subtle hint of accusation in his tone under the friendliness, and Martha grimaced.

"We were," Mickey defended. "But- well—"

"Working for the government provides a steadier income," Martha explained, before adding with a tiny smile, "Better for supporting a family."

"A family?" Jack repeated, and then his whole face lit up in a joyful beam. "_Family_! Martha and Mickey- well, well, well. How many? How old?" He pulled them both in with one arm wrapped around each.

"Just the one," Martha laughed, "She's almost four."

"We all call her Mandy," Mickey informed him.

"That's just great, you two. Congratulations," Jack grinned before releasing them. Amy felt a little like she was intruding on a moment between friends, but then reminded herself that these people were on _her_ lawn. She could listen in however much she wanted.

"So, uh, Amy- Pond, was it?" Mickey questioned, turning to them at last.

"Amy Pond, Rory Williams, and Professor River Song," Jack introduced quickly. "They're a family the Doctor…befriended," he shot a wicked smirk River's way, and her lips quirked up almost challengingly.

Martha and Mickey did not appear to notice the exchange. "Oh good, that makes things simpler," Martha said, smiling warmly at them. "It's good to meet you. If you wouldn't mind, the Colonel would like to speak with you about the situation." She gestured toward the trailer.

"We'll be just a minute, Martha," Jack told her. She nodded, and then turned and headed inside the parked vehicle. Mickey followed a moment after. As soon as they were out of earshot, Jack turned to the three of them, the smile dropping from his face. "Sorry, but it looks like we'll be doing this the hard way."

"What do you mean?" Amy asked.

"Martha and Mickey are good people- great, really. But they're bargaining chips."

"How?" Rory asked.

"Leverage," River answered, seeming to understand the Captain. "To use against the Doctor."

"Right," Jack agreed. "UNIT keeps those two on hand because they're skilled, but also because it's the only way he'd pay them any mind. Right now, they think he's still alive."

"And what will they do when they find out they're sort-of wrong?" Rory asked, Amy nodding in acknowledgement of the question.

"I can only hope I'm wrong," Jack merely said, before leading the way to the trailer.

Inside was like stepping into a headquarters. It was equipped with everything, and seemed able to hold much more than physically possible. She entertained the idea that perhaps it was bigger on the inside, but dismissed it almost immediately. The thought of something as boring as a government trailer-office having that capability was dreadful. They stopped inside a room lined with screens that uniformed people sat in front of doing who knew what. She thought she saw a couple showing surveillance footage of around the outside of their house and felt her anger coming to the surface again.

A decorated officer stood watching the largest screen, but turned to them when Martha said, "These are the residents of the house, sir."

The tall, thin man nodded sharply in acknowledgement. "Colonel Alan Mace of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. I must admit, I was hoping to speak with the Doctor."

Amy couldn't help the blanch that came to her face as he, Martha, and Mickey all stared expectantly. "Yeah," she said, "well—"

"Why don't you brief us on what- I believe you called it 'the situation', Doctor Jones, is?" River rescued, and Jack gave a discreet thumbs up.

"Very well," Colonel Mace agreed, and led them to a more private room with a glass wall so what she supposed was the control room could still be seen. "We've been getting unusual readings from the Rift, as has Torchwood I expect," the man said, nodding toward Jack. "Just this week we tracked them down to this location and as of 0900, have identified the object on your back lawn as the TARDIS. We have taken the liberty of stationing soldiers around it as a guard."

"Yeah, don't appreciate that much," Rory spoke up, and the Colonel looked at him.

"Mr. Williams, the last time I let the TARDIS go unwatched, it got beamed up to a Sontaran battle ship with a woman inside." Amy could only raise an eyebrow at the sound of this interesting tale. "So, we at UNIT would be very much obliged if the Doctor could please explain these readings. Then we'd be very happy to leave."

"Yeah," Amy said again, looking uneasily at the others. Jack only nodded, so she said, "he's not really…here now."

"What, and left the TARDIS?" Mickey asked with a disbelieving smile.

"Yep," Rory said.

"Then where is he?"

"In order to save 4022 people on another planet, the Doctor channeled a super-computer's hard drive through his brain. He used a device called the Chameleon Arch to do so, transforming himself into a human and forgetting everything about being the Doctor in the first place. Then he somehow managed to send the TARDIS here without a pilot. I think that covers it, Colonel," River finished with her well-used forced smile, and Amy placed a hand on her shoulder, knowing how difficult it must have been for her daughter to say all of that without betraying her emotions.

"He what?" Mickey asked, blinking and shaking his head.

"But- he can't have- he promised," Martha spoke in broken phrases, staring at the floor with a stunned expression on her face. She took a breath and looked up, struggling to smile. "It's ok, we can fix this. He's- he's got a— oh no," she breathed, a look of true horror taking over her features.

"What is it, Doctor Jones?" Colonel Mace demanded, having taken all the information in stoically, a slight raise of the eyebrows the only indication of his shock.

"He- his watch, he gave away the watch—Tim…" she trailed off.

"Martha," Jack placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Without the watch, his Time Lord consciousness was dispersed…across the whole universe. He's alive, but he's gone."

"Oh my God," she said hoarsely, her husband wrapping strong arms around her in an embrace.

"He left a message for you, if you want to see it," Amy offered, and Martha nodded, covering her mouth with one hand and holding onto Mickey with the other. After a moment, she pulled away, and they brought the Smiths around the house to the TARDIS. A soldier stood on each side of the phone box, facing out with gun in hand. At the sight of the two UNIT personnel, the one in front of the doors saluted and stepped aside. Amy didn't hide her glare as she marched past and inside.

"It might look a bit different from what you remember," Rory was saying, but the pair hardly seemed to be listening, looking around in awe at the ship.

"Still amazing," Martha simply said.

"I think it's even bigger," Mickey mumbled, and then grinned at his own words.

"It got sort of redesigned after he regenerated," Amy told them, then stopped to consider something. "You know he regenerated, yeah?"

"Yeah," Mickey replied, "We didn't see it, but…"

"There was a Sontaran that we didn't notice about to shoot, and he saved us. And there was this look on his face. We just knew," Martha said, her eyes finally landing on the monitor. She walked up the steps to the console. "Is this him?"

"Yes," River answered.

"It's funny, he's different, but not really. Looks younger, though," the black-haired woman remarked.

"Keeps doing that," Mickey agreed, coming up to stand next to his wife. "Go on, then," he nodded, and this time River hit the 'play' button.

"Doctor Jones and Mickey Smith. Martha Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Smith," the Doctor said with a little smile playing at his lips. "Good on you, mate. Sometimes I think the best people in the world are named Smith. But I've met too many people."

"He still rambles," Martha chuckled softly.

"Where should I start? Mickey, Mickey-Ricky-good old Mickey. Maybe I should start with an apology. I never was very good to you, not really, rude and not ginger aside. Despite that, you stuck with me—well, that's not completely true, you were sticking with- Rose." His voice faltered a bit on the name, yet he continued. "But it still counts, and thank you. You've grown into a smart, dependable, _fantastic_ human being, someone completely deserving of the brilliant Martha Jones. All the best, Mickey."

"Why couldn't we have traveled with this him? He's nice," Mickey muttered, and Jack smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Ah, then there's Martha. Martha, I was hardly fair to you. To have been fair to you would have been not to have invited you to come with me at all. But I was…so very lonely, of which you grew to know." He sighed heavily. "I'm grateful for the time I spent in your company, even if all I ever did was ruin you and never show any proper gratitude. I'm very ashamed of that, Martha," the Doctor admitted softly. The UNIT doctor appeared to be trying not to cry. Mickey put an arm around her shoulders again.

"Still you never seem to hold it against me, so perhaps I should look on the positive, eh? Travelling with you, Martha, made me realize I could move on and that it wasn't the end of the universe- or even the world. I learned so much from you, right from that moment you closed Mr. Stoker's eyes in that hospital on the moon, I knew you were going to be extraordinary." He smiled fondly at the memory he spoke of, and Martha smiled back while wiping at her eyes.

"And even though we may have hit some rough patches—how is your mother, by the way—you helped me. You _healed_ me, Martha. A right, proper doctor." He laughed once. "Well, who wants to listen to a daft old man's ramblings. Onto to the present!" He changed topic enthusiastically, causing all the occupants of the console room to smile.

"A re-gift, I'll admit," he raised his hands in a placating manner, "But I think the Ponds will forgive me. Because, you'll be needing it soon." He lifted a familiar wooden cradle into view. "Yeah, it's not much, it's old- really old, actually, but—it was mine. And I'd be honored to have you use it. Thank you, both, for everything. And every happiness to you and the kids." He smiled warmly at the screen for a moment, before disappearing from view as he placed the crib back down.

"Right, next is—" River paused the video, and they waited for the Smiths to collect themselves.

"Thanks," Mickey said, "for showing us this, I mean."

"He asked us to," Amy said simply.

"It's just…so hard to realize that he's gone," Martha said quietly. "I mean really gone. He's alive out there, but not him. Not really."

"Hold on," Mickey interjected, stopping his wife's solemn speech. "He said…we're going to need a crib?"

"Yeah," Martha said, realization of something dawning on her features. "Every happiness to us and the _kids_. Kids!" They all stared at her, perhaps waiting for some sign of what was obviously happening inside her to manifest itself.

"Not even going to say it," Jack teased with a grin, and the Smiths glared good naturedly before laughing and hugging tightly in joy.

Rory slipped away to grab the cradle, while congratulations were said and hugs were given. A sudden rap at the door put a stop to the impromptu celebration, however, and everyone looked at the entrance. Jack went down the steps and pulled the door open a crack.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"We've received instructions from Headquarters. I'm going to have to ask you all to step outside." His tone left no room for argument, and so they all filed out reluctantly, Mickey carrying the crib.

"What were instructions?" Martha asked professionally, and Amy couldn't help but feel incredibly nervous.

"We are to relocate the TARDIS to a secure storage facility at Headquarters so that it may be studied. A search will also be started to find the Doctor and bring him in."

"_What_?" She didn't even know how many of them said it.

"Colonel, with all due respect—" Jack began in a tone hardly civil.

"Putting the TARDIS in storage?" Mickey asked incredulously, shaking his head.

"Bring him in for what?" River demanded fiercely.

"He's human, and he won't remember anything, so questioning him would be pointless," Martha tried to reason.

"You can't- hunt him down like that, it's not right," Rory insisted.

"You will listen, Colonel Mace, and you will listen good," Amy hissed, but it still managed to cut through all the other's objections and everyone stopped. "That man was my best friend. He gave us a job to do, and we will do it. We need the TARDIS to do that, so it's not going anywhere, got it? And you will leave him _alone_."

The Colonel had something of a look of surprise, and perhaps slight intimidation, on his face, but he pursed his lips, and said, "Mrs. Williams, he may be human now, but he was of alien origin. Normally we left him to his own devices," Martha scoffed at that, but the Colonel continued. "In his 'condition', however, anything could happen- but that is not allowed to happen. As such, he and his ship have become UNIT's responsibility."

Jack opened his mouth again, but Martha placed a hand on his arm.

"Colonel, please just think a minute. Before you do this, he's asked these people to do something for him. That message, it's his _will_. If for nothing else, let them carry it out in respect for everything he's done for the Earth."

"Right, and, before rushing in to grab him or anything," Mickey added, coming to his wife's aid, "Maybe just watch him for a few days. Surveillance, see if it'd really be dangerous to leave him out there."

Colonel Mace studied them each in turn. "I think that could be arranged," he finally acquiesced, and Amy sagged against Rory in relief. "However, there will still be a guard placed around the TARDIS while it is still here. Doctor Jones, you will be held personably accountable should anything go wrong," he warned, and Martha nodded seriously. "Smith, I am putting you in charge of the team to locate the Doctor. Search up files, records, anything, but we need his whereabouts. Then we shall see about surveillance."

"Yes, sir," Mickey agreed with an accompanying salute which the man returned before turning and reentering the trailer.

"Is that going to stay there, too?" Rory couldn't help but ask.

"Nah, they'll move it to somewhere more out of the way. Sorry about all this," Mickey said, smiling sheepishly as he gestured around and shifted the wood cradle in his arms.

"They're going to lock the TARDIS in some basement to be tested like a lab rat," Jack grumbled. "I believe the Doc when he says it's alive. Can't stand UNIT sometimes. No offense," he added belatedly, looking at the Smiths.

"None taken," Martha assured with a soft smile.

"Better get to work on this search, then," Mickey said, and looked at Martha. "You know the most about this Chameleon Arch thing. Does it give him a background or records or something?"

"It should," Martha agreed, "But I don't know if the watch affects it or not. I never asked—he promised he'd never use it again," she said almost bitterly.

"Rule number one," River commiserated, "The Doctor lies."

"Wish I'd come up with that," Martha said, before sighing sadly. "That poor man. Must have been a really important planet to drive him to even think of doing that to himself." She didn't seem to notice River's almost anguished expression.

"Becoming human isn't that bad compared to other things he's done," Amy mused. "And he's technically still alive, yeah?"

Martha's lips twitched up for a moment. "Yeah," she agreed, "But I wasn't talking about that."

"Then what were you talking about?" Rory asked.

"Using the Arch. I can't even imagine going through that, and alone."

"Why?" Amy asked sharply, feeling her insides turn to ice.

"That's mostly why I made him promise," Martha admitted, staring straight at them with pain shining in her eyes. "He _screamed_ for hours."

River choked on a sob as Rory wrapped his arms around her in comfort. Jack and Mickey both bowed their heads. Amy could only close her eyes in an attempt to stall the hurt and sadness and guilt and even anger.

He'd lied.

**So there's the chapter. Uh oh, John, UNIT's coming! And what's going to happen to the TARDIS? I hope Martha and Mickey sounded in-character, they and Jack will be joining the Ponds in carrying out the Doctor's last will. Only a few people left now. Thanks for all the feedback, it keeps me writing. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much for the responses, I'm really happy you all like it so much! Makes my day! Unfortunately, this is my last weekend before school starts, but I'll try to still update frequently. At any rate, here's the next chapter.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Seven**

The Ponds, the Smiths, River, and Jack were sitting around Amy and Rory's kitchen table taking lunch and exchanging stories. Martha was just finishing an exciting tale about Shakespeare and witches when Amy happened to glance out the window. Four UNIT soldiers were still standing guard around the TARDIS.

"Rory," she sighed, getting up to put the kettle on. "Ask them how they take their tea." It wasn't their fault they'd been ordered to baby-sit a blue box. As Rory went out to do as requested, an idea occurred to Amy and she went into their sitting room. Searching the bookcases, she finally found what she was looking for: a photo album.

"Is that…?" Rory asked when she returned.

"When we had the time," she told the others, "which wasn't that often, we took pictures. I thought you might like to see what he's been up to, yeah?"

Grinning, Martha took the album and placed it on the table, eagerly flipping through as Mickey and Jack looked over her shoulder.

"Is that a bowtie?" the UNIT doctor laughed.

"I suppose tweed's better than that leather jacket," Mickey remarked with a smirk.

"Hm, I'm liking the braces, it's a good look," Jack grinned.

Amy finished making the tea and strode across the lawn towards the soldiers carrying four cups on a tray. "Here," she said, offering one to each.

"Thank you, ma'am," said the one in front of the doors, giving a salute before he accepted his.

"Suppose this wasn't the adventure you thought it'd be," Amy commented.

"No, ma'am," he admitted, grinning ruefully into his cup. "But this might be better. I had a brother who worked for UNIT, and he met the Doctor."

"Really?" Amy asked curiously, "And what did he think of him?"

"I don't know. The Sontarans killed him before he could say."

Amy dropped her gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm sure the Doctor didn't mean for that to happen."

"It wasn't the Doctor's fault, ma'am," he replied. "In fact, he told them to retreat. UNIT didn't listen. I've got nothing against the Doctor."

"If UNIT's the reason why your brother's- dead—" Amy started, but the soldier finished.

"Then why am I working for them? I figure if I work at it, get promoted through the ranks, I might be able to stop stuff like that from happening. It's the least I can do for- Ross," he said, stumbling slightly over the name.

"That his name?"

"Yeah," he muttered, taking a gulp of his tea.

"What's yours?"

"Gregory, ma'am."

"Well, you're doing a good job, Gregory," Amy said with a gentle smile.

He returned it, but scoffed as he said, "Not that hard guarding a box. Not like it's going anywhere without the Doctor."

Her insides squirmed uncomfortably as the smile slowly fell from her face. "Uh- yeah," she agreed, backing away and then turning and walking toward the house. Rory and River were both waiting for her on the porch. "What're we going to do?" She asked them. "We can't use the TARDIS to carry out the will, but we have to do it."

"How many are left?" Rory asked River.

"Just two more stops," she answered, "Not counting ourselves. We'll have to drive. We can take care of one today."

"Ok, where am I driving?"

"Colchester," River told him. With that, all three turned and went inside the house.

"We're heading out," Amy informed their guests as Rory grabbed the car keys.

"Right, I should be getting back to work," Mickey said, rising and kissing his wife on the cheek. "Thanks for the lunch," he called as he left the house.

"Well then, Mr. Williams, let's see your wheels," Jack said, following Rory out to the driveway.

"He looks happy," Martha stated, still looking at the album. "I'm glad he found you three. It's not good for him to travel alone, you know."

"Yes," River said softly. Martha had stopped on a photo of the Doctor and River, sitting together on a bench in some distant alien city. He must have said something River found hilarious for she had her head tipped back in laughter, a hand braced on his knee. He was grinning smugly at his victory, but the look in his eyes spoke of something much deeper than simple happiness. It was…absolute adoration. The fingers of his own hand were just brushing hers. River slowly reached out and brushed the photo gently with her thumb.

"Well, just let me grab a couple things from the TARDIS. I'll be right out," she said with one of her fake smiles, and Amy watched her daughter go out the back door again.

"She really misses him, doesn't she?" Martha asked Amy. She could only nod in response. "It's not easy, letting him go- but the sooner she does it, the better. Because, even if by some miracle he comes back, he's still the Doctor. He's got two hearts, and sometimes I think he can love the whole universe with them," the raven-haired woman had her eyes shut with a smile, but when she opened them there was sadness and past pain, the smile gone. "But not that way. Don't you see?"

"I'm not worried," Amy said simply, and went out to wait in the car. River joined them soon after with a box and a CD disk labeled _Craig Owens_. Rory started the car and the Ponds drove off, Jack waving from the driveway.

It was a long drive and very silent in the car, and Amy found herself quickly missing the benefits of TARDIS travel. It was with great relief when they turned down a calm, unassuming street in Colchester that River said, "This is it." Rory stopped outside a house that hardly looked different than any of the others, and turned off the engine.

"So, what's the CD for?" Amy asked, getting out and stretching after the trip. She would take wild turbulence any day over the soreness in her back and shoulders and her stiff legs.

"A copy of the Doctor's message for Craig Owens," River replied, already walking up to the door and knocking.

Amy and Rory joined her as a vaguely familiar voice inside called, "Just a minute! Alfie, eat your fruit."

"No!" Came the childish response, and they heard a groan as the door swung open.

"Hello," said a blonde man with broad shoulders, and Amy realized suddenly that she'd never actually _met_ Craig Owens.

"Uh- hi," she started, putting a smile on her face. "Craig, yeah? Well, we have something for you. Um," she stammered as the man simply looked very bemused.

"You have something for me? But I didn't order any—hang on, who are you?"

Rory and River shrugged at each other, and Amy let out a heavy sigh. "I'm Amy- Amy Pond, and this is my hus—"

"Amy Pond? Oh! Amy Pond- it's you!" Craig gasped, pointing at her in shock. "Well come- come in, afraid we don't have much in the way of—Sophie's down at the shops right now, but have a seat." He ushered them into a living room and then retrieved a young boy from the kitchen, taking a seat across from them with the child on his lap. She presumed it was his son, which was a bit odd considering when she had encountered the man, per say, he and Sophie hadn't even been living together.

When he saw that his guests were settled, Craig said in a tone so serious it threw her off, "What's he done now?"

"Sorry?" She asked.

"The Doctor—he's done something, hasn't he? Is my next door neighbor a robot? Is something going to happen here again? _Has_ something happened?" He put a hand to his forehead getting more worked up with each question. "He's in trouble, isn't he?"

"Well—" Rory started to say, but Craig cut him off.

"He is! Oh- well, just give me a minute," he stood, the little boy in his arms giggling as he was set down, and Craig went out into the hall still talking rapidly and in increasing panic. "He's caught himself captured on some alien ship, I just know it! Or he's trapped- in a- a- I don't know, an iceberg or something. He's always getting into trouble! Oh—I shouldn't have let him leave. Going to America? Ha! I'll bet he jumped in a black hole or something- that's something he'd do." He returned wearing a jacket and appeared to be packing a backpack with supplies.

"I'll have to leave a note for Sophie—ask the neighbors to watch Alfie- you'll be good won't you?" he stooped to kiss his son on top of his head, which set the child off into another peal of high-pitched giggles.

"Craig," Amy said, trying to calm the man's frantic behavior. "Craig, it's- it's ok."

Craig turned back to her and snapped, "No, it's not ok, if it was ok, he'd _be _here." She looked away, not able to meet his gaze.

"You're right," River admitted, getting up and walking over to him. "It's not ok. But there's nothing you can do." She started pulling things out of the backpack, Craig looking on in confusion.

"Wh- what do you mean?"

Rory walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where? How?"

Amy explained in the gentlest terms possible as Rory steered the other man to a seat in front of his television and River inserted the disk.

"But- he can't just be gone- he's- he's—"

"Craig," the Doctor began on the screen, and the other man fell silent. "Oh Craig, the times we had. And how's Alfie? Enjoying your toddler years, are you?"

Alfie laughed at the screen. "Doctor," he said, and Craig lifted his son back into his lap.

"Craig, I can't thank you enough. Cast out of the TARDIS and alone, but you accepted me as your flat mate despite any and all of my…tawdry quirks." Amy frowned at the familiar phrasing, but did not comment as he continued. " And just when I'd thought I'd come to the end of it all, you were there with your friendship and your belief in me and your…love that can kill Cybermen. Killing Cybermen with love!" He repeated, a wide smiled on his face. "You're unbelievable, Craig. The ordinary man, who can do so many extraordinary things. I think I might envy that," the Doctor said, looking off into the distance. "You're so…" he seemed to struggle for a word before saying, "content. It's something very hard for me to achieve, Craig, something that I know I'll never achieve again as me." Amy grasped her daughter's hand in a silent show of support, and saw Rory take the other hand at the same time.

"So that's why it's time for me to say goodbye, truly this time. I have so much to thank you for, Craig. Who needs a perfect line of planets- when you can spend a weekend with Craig Owens, one of the best dads in the universe. I'm afraid I don't have much to give to you, and I'm really just giving them back. Firstly—" he held up something small and metal that jingled. "Your keys. I suppose they're useless now, seeing as you don't live there anymore," the Doctor mused, shaking the key ring. "All the same…ah, and second is your hat!" He grabbed something off to the side and Amy watched as a very familiar Stenson came into view. "Very cool," the Doctor said, grinning at it. "Howdy, partner!" he exclaimed in the same accent he'd greeted the Ponds with in Utah, and Craig laughed.

The Doctor's grin slowly faded to a sad smile. "Goodbye, Craig." The CD stopped on its own, and Rory silently presented the other man with the box River had brought with them.

"You ok?" Amy asked quietly.

"I just- I," Craig shook his head and sighed. "can't believe it."

Not sure what else to say, the Ponds let themselves out and began the drive home.

OoO

On his way to work, something caught John's eye. He stopped, ignoring the grumblings of people who started to go around and move past him, and turned to find what he had seen. It was a child, a little girl no more than ten, standing alone in the shade of a building, and she was crying.

"Hello, what's this?" He murmured to himself, walking over and crouching down in front of her to make himself level. "Are you lost?"

"Yes," she said, wiping furiously at her tears. He produced, after the usual search of pockets and not-pockets, a handkerchief which she took. "My daddy was taking me to work with him today, but I can't find him."

"There, there," he said as her sobs began anew, little hitches of breath that tugged at his heartstrings in an unbearably painful way. "I'm sure he's looking for you. I'll bet if we just wait right here, he'll come right back and find you."

"Really?" She asked hesitantly, though he could see the stirrings of hope in her eyes.

"Really," he said, nodding emphatically. "Trust me." He gave her a confident smile, which she shyly returned. He turned his back to the wall and sat, patting the ground next to him.

"Isn't it dirty?" She asked, wrinkling her nose.

"No more than that wall you've stuck yourself to," he pointed out, and after thinking about it a moment, she joined him in sitting on the sidewalk. "I'm John Smith, by the way," he added after a few minutes of sitting quietly and watching people walk by, not sparing the two of them a second glance.

"I'm Annemarie," she told him.

"Annemarie," he repeated with a smile. "That's a beautiful name—a storybook princess you are," he said, and she smiled in a very pleased way. "Only a storybook princess would sit here with a stranger on the ground and make small-talk." Annemarie giggled and he laughed with her, glad to see her tears completely gone and her eyes dry.

"But you're not a stranger," she said matter-of-factly. "You're the funny man."

The smile fell from his face and he shifted to face her fully. "The funny man?"

"The funny man in the funny hat at Cousin Rory's wedding. You danced a lot, and it wasn't very good." He felt he ought to be offended at that, but shook his head instead, trying to focus.

"Can't have been, I've never been invited to a wedding in my life," he told her, satisfied with his ability to clear up that confusion. He hoped she wouldn't be scared of him now that she realized she had no idea who he was.

But Annemarie shook her head stubbornly. "You weren't invited; you came in the funny box."

"Sorry?" He asked, feeling frozen to that wall as the air caught in his throat.

"The blue box, you made it appear and disappear, and then you danced funny. I remember, I was six, and you taught me the funny dance—"

"Annemarie!" A man came running down the street toward them and she looked away from him, leaping up with a joyful squeal.

"Daddy!"

The man who could only be Annemarie's father knelt down and gathered her in his arms, one hand behind her head and the other wrapped protectively around her middle. "Oh, Annemarie, I thought I'd lost you."

"It's ok, daddy, the funny man waited with me," he heard her murmur, and Annemarie's father pulled away in confusion.

"The funny man…?" He looked up and saw John still sitting against the building.

"Hello!" John said brightly, standing up and reaching out a hand to shake the other man's. "I'm afraid I really don't know what your daughter's talking about- see my name is—"

"Oh my god," the father said, and tugged his daughter behind him. "It's you!"

"Sorry?" He asked again, completely thrown off guard. It was one thing for a little girl to be insisting she'd met him, but a full grown man?

"You- you're that weird friend of theirs!" The man exclaimed, quickly backing away, and John's hand still hung limply in the air.

"I told you," Annemarie said smugly, being pulled away by her father.

"Look I'm afraid I really don't know what you're talking about—"

"Cousin Rory always was a bit- odd. And that wife of his, too. But I'm not dancing with you, not again!" The other man was absolutely raving now, and hurried around the corner out of sight.

"Thank you!" Annemarie called, before she disappeared with one last yank on her arm.

"What?" Was all he could think of to say. Funny man, blue boxes—again!—hats and dancing—he couldn't even dance, he didn't think—"Who's Cousin Rory?" He exclaimed in frustration to no one in particular, and threw his hands up when he received no answer.

A glint of metal on his wrist made him do a double-take at his watch, gaping at the time. "Oh no, I'm late!" He ran the rest of the way to the library, gasping out an apology to his boss, and collapsed in an exhausted heap behind the Help Desk.

"Er, excuse me?" said a voice above him, and he lifted his head to see a teenage boy looking over the desk at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" John asked, voice still hoarse and breathing labored.

"I wanted to look at the archives," the boy replied, flicking ginger bangs out of his eyes as he spoke.

"Tell you what," he said, grabbing at the desk and pulling himself up onto his knees by sheer arm power. "You get me a glass of water, and we'll go straightaway."

"Ok," the boy replied, still looking at him oddly before turning and fetching him the desired beverage. He watched in interest as John gulped the entire thing down in less than half a minute. "Wow."

"What was your name?" John asked, placing the glass on the desk.

"Um, Aaron. Aaron Wood."

"Nice to meet you, Aaron Wood, I'm John Smith, here to help," he said, pointing at his name tag.

"Yeah, well, you do work here." Aaron pointed out with another eyebrow raise.

"That's sarcasm, isn't Aaron?"

"Yep," the ginger-boy confirmed, with an added eye roll.

His heart rate and breathing back to normal, John grinned. "Right then, let's go have a look at those archives, shall we? Come along, Wood." He led the way to the back, opening the door the Archive Room with his key. "So, what do you need the archives for?"

"School project," Aaron answered, stepping in after him and taking in all the cabinets. John began walking down an aisle.

"School's getting out soon, though, can't be that. Unless you procrastinated. Are you a procrastinator, Aaron Wood?" He had travelled back up the next aisle and now studied the teenager across the cabinet top.

"No," Aaron said defensively. "It's just- complicated."

"Try me," he said, spreading his arms out in an open gesture. Aaron sighed.

"We got assigned a summer project. Research an Important Historical Figure," he snorted in disdain. "Thought I'd get an early start."

"Good plan, I like that plan, best to get it over with. Never put off what you can do today, cause you never know how much—sorry," he said, breaking off at the bored expression Aaron was fixing him with. "Rambling. Been doing that lately. Just- helps to keep me…distracted," unwillingly he thought of the strange incident that morning. "Anyway," John said, shaking his head, "which Important Historical Figure are you researching? Churchill? Churchill's a good one," he said pulling open the C cabinet and thumbing through the folders before abruptly slamming it shut.

"Uh—"

"Or maybe a royal? Lots of those to choose from there—and boy, interesting lot they are!" He remarked, twirling down aisles—almost dancing—opening and closing drawers with resounding, echoing bangs- anything to drown it out. Funny man in his funny hat with his funny box-and-dance.

"Mr. Smith—"

"How about an artist? Abstract, Impressionist, Renaissance! Michelangelo had a fear of heights—painted the Sistine Chapel anyway, brilliant he was!"

"Mr. Smith!" His mouth snapped shut and he turned to see Aaron simply staring at him. It was completely silent in the Archive Room now except for his own four fingers which he kept drumming against the top of a cabinet in rapid succession, using the steady beat to keep it at bay. Little Annemarie's words about the wedding for Cousin _Roryroryroryroryamyroryamyro ry_—

"Johnny!"

His hand stopped and flew off the cabinet as he turned to see Molly standing at the door to the Archive Room. "There's a person at the desk, you should be out there. You already were late today," she reminded him worriedly.

"Right. I've just- Aaron here needs to look at the archives. I'll just be a minute—unless you could…?"

"Of- of course!" She said nodding. "No problem," Molly added quietly, shutting the door behind her as she left.

"Can I just talk?" Aaron asked after a minute.

"Yes! Course you can, I'll just shut- up…now," he trailed off at the glower the teenager sent his way.

"I'm not researching Churchill, or the Queen, or any of that rubbish. That's boring, and everybody else'll be doing that anyway. I've got someone way cooler than that in mind," Aaron told him, eyes alight with excitement.

"And that would be…?" John asked.

"The Doctor."

**And that's chapter seven!...please don't kill me! So, one more road trip for the grounded Ponds before they receive their own gifts.** **John's feeling less and less like himself these days, we'll see how Aaron and his summer project affect him! And how much success is UNIT having locating their MIA Time Lord? All this to come! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**This will likely be my last chapter before school starts, so I'll try and make it a good one. 20 reviews—you guys are awesome! Thanks so much for your support!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eight**

Amy quietly entered the little computer lab in the UNIT trailer and watched for a while as Mickey and several others furiously typed and clicked away. "So, any luck?" She asked at last, and Mickey turned in his seat to observe her.

"Thought you wanted UNIT to 'leave him alone'?" He remarked, and Amy shrugged.

"I do. But, if you're going to look for him anyway- it'd be nice just to know, if he's ok wherever he is- whoever he is. You know?" He nodded in understanding.

"Well, I wish I could tell you something, but we're having no luck. No birth certificates, no I.D. matches—these computers can find anything stored on any computer. But there's nothing on any John Smiths matching his description." He sighed. "There's not really much point, though, is there? I mean, he could be anywhere! Any when, right?"

Martha came through the door at that moment with a steaming mug. "Thought I'd bring you a coffee," she told her husband and he thanked her with a peck to the lips.

"The TARDIS can't have gone that far, though. I mean, if he was trying to send it to us," she prompted, and Mickey gave a noncommittal hum as he took a gulp of coffee.

"Probably not much further than a few months," Martha guessed, and Amy froze.

"When did UNIT start getting those weird readings?" Martha blinked, and then her eyes widened in realization.

"A few months back," she said, a grin appearing on her face. Amy ran back out the way she'd originally come, Martha hot on her heels. Mickey got up and followed a moment after, to find his wife and the red-haired Scottish woman searching for someone.

"Jack!" Amy cried upon spotting the man in the long coat.

"Hello," he said with a charming grin when he turned to face them. "What can I do for two beautiful ladies?"

"Hey, none of that!" Mickey said, but Martha waved him off.

"When did Torchwood start getting those funny readings from the Rift?"

"September 27th, 2013," he rattled off, both he and Amy noticing the UNIT doctor's ever widening smile. "Why?"

"So did we," she said, waiting a moment for someone to say something. "Don't you see? The TARDIS being flown pilotless was what was causing the readings, and it started doing that on September 27th, 2013."

"Meaning," Jack said, slowly beginning to nod, "that it lost its pilot on September 27th, 2013."

"Meaning," Martha began, but Amy could not contain her excitement.

"The Doctor got dropped off on September 27th, 2013!" Mickey had watched and listened to all of this, and was already running back to the trailer.

"I'm on it!" he called before disappearing inside. Amy took off in the opposite direction, running for her house.

"Rory!" Her husband was standing at the front door, looking frantically around for her and whatever danger he perceived her to be in, so naturally he was very surprised when his wife launched herself into his arms and began laughing.

"Uh, Amy, what—"

"September 27th, 2013. That's when he landed. He's not lost, Rory!" She exclaimed, her arms still wrapped tightly around him.

"The Doctor? He's still in our time? That's- good. That's great!" He exclaimed, joining in her happiness with a laugh of his own. "Do we know where?"

"No," she answered, pulling back and sobering slightly. "But, he's on Earth, now." She ran out to the back lawn, right up to the TARDIS doors. "Isn't that great, girl? He's still out there," she breathed, and thought she heard one of the ship's happy hums resonate from within.

"It really can hear us," Gregory breathed in shock, and she grinned at him.

"Yep, and she's happy because somewhere out there the Doctor's still walking around."

"John Smith's walking around, mother," River corrected, having pulled open the TARDIS door. "Not the Doctor."

She felt herself deflate at her daughter's very true words. "Well- yeah," she agreed lamely. Amy then noticed the large box River had one arm around as she cradled it against her hip. "Is it—"

"Time to go," River said simply. "Chiswick, London. And ask Martha to come."

Amy didn't get a chance to ask why until they were all piled into the car again and Rory was driving. "What's in Chiswick?" She asked curiously. It sounded as unlikely as Leadworth for a destination the Doctor would frequent.

"Donna," Martha replied solemnly, and Amy fell silent. Of all the Doctor's previous companions, she knew this woman was important to him. She didn't know much detail, for he never said, but she couldn't help feeling nervous as they got closer and closer to their destination. River had them park a street away from the house.

"Mum, dad, you'll have to go to the house and ask for Wilfred Mott. But if a red-haired woman answers the door, say you got the wrong address, make something up. We'll have to try another day, then. If she's not there, and he is, then call Martha's cell phone and we'll join you."

"Why aren't you coming now?" Rory asked in bewilderment, but their daughter merely shook her head.

"We can't risk her seeing us," was the cryptic reply, and used to cryptic from River, Amy and Rory made their way to the little house. Rory knocked, and after a minute they heard someone's shuffling footsteps.

"Be there in a tic, just you wait!" Called the voice of an elderly man, and that was who pulled open the door. He was dressed in a checkered shirt and a jacket, with snow white hair and a bit of scruff on his chin and cheeks. "Hello," he said, friendly enough.

"Hi," Amy began, with the same awkward smile she'd given Craig. She really needed to work on these introductions. "Is- uh- Wilfred Mott in?" She asked uncertainly.

The man chuckled good naturedly. "Well that's me, isn't it?"

"Is it just you?" Rory asked, clearly uncomfortable and wanting River and Martha to come and take over. The old man's smile slipped and he gripped the doorframe.

"Yeah, why?"

"We just need to talk with you about something—didn't want to disturb your family," Amy said, trying to calm him and elbowing her husband in the ribs. She heard a satisfying sharp intake of breath and continued with a smile, "It shouldn't take too long, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Well, I suppose not. I mean, Sylvia's out with some friends and Donna's- well, sometimes I'm not sure where she is even when she's standing right in front of me." He chuckled again, but it lacked the warmth of the first one. Rory was already calling to tell the other two the coast was clear. "What's this about, eh?"

"It's about the Doctor," Amy told him, and watched as his eyes lit up anew.

"The Doctor! Well, why didn't you say so? What is it this time, then? Another invasion by them aliens? Saw what they did to the sun few years back," he said, and Amy nodded in remembrance of that wonderful day when he came back to her. "Then all the clocks went funny. But he stopped it! Just like he always does, doesn't he? Knew we had nothing to worry about. But then that horrible Christmas…" he trailed off, his eyes falling on something behind Amy and she turned.

River and Martha were making their way up to the house. "Hey, I know you!" Wilfred cried, pointing at Martha. "You were on my computer screen during that what's-it-called—conference call, I think, with Harriet Jones and them other people."

Martha nodded with a smile. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Mott. Donna had nothing to say but great things."

"Donna, yes," he said, the same sad look from before coming to his face. "You don't need to worry about that, she won't be back for another couple of hours at least. She's been more and more distant since she and Shaun called it quits. Come in, come in," he said, leading the way into the little house.

"I'm sorry to hear they didn't work out," Martha said, and Amy realized why they'd brought her. She was someone Wilfred was comfortable talking to, and that was going to become undoubtedly important in the next few minutes.

"Oh, well, she was settling at best in the first place," he replied, taking a seat on one of the sofas.

"Do you have a DVD player, Mr. Mott?" River asked politely.

"No, Sylvia says it isn't worth it with all that On Demand, Netflix stuff," he replied, and she instead retrieved the laptop. "What's this all about, then? How is he?" He asked it with such open friendliness and concern, and obvious fondness for the man in question that Amy felt as though a lead weight had been dropped into her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mott," Martha said, reaching out and taking one of the man's wrinkled hands. "He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" He asked, not seeming to comprehend, but at the look on Martha's face he began to shake his head. "No, no he can't have- he's not—" Wilfred looked at each in turn, but no one said anything. "Well he must have changed his face! He can do that- he- he said it was like dying, but he can't really be—"

"He did regenerate," Martha told him gently, "And he's still alive, but he's not the Doctor anymore. He had to make himself human to save a planet, and it took away all his memories. He's not physically dead," she was quick to reassure, for the old man's eyes were quickly becoming wet and about to spill over with tears.

"Might has well be. Look what it's done to Donna- not remembering any of that wonderful stuff she did. What'll it do to him? He was the most- wonderful man—Oh God," his whole body trembled, and he mopped at his face with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket as he sobbed.

"He left a message for you, if you'd like to see it?" River asked softly, and Amy noticed a sheen to her eyes that spoke of her own unshed tears. He seemed incapable of words and merely nodded. Wordlessly, she brought up the video.

"He'll look different," Martha warned before it started, "but he still remembers everything." That was all she said, for then the recorded Doctor spoke.

"Wilfred Mott. Oh Wilf. How are you?" The Doctor looked incredibly nervous for some reason, and Amy wasn't sure why. "Wilf, I'm not sure what to say to you. Because you see, I distinctly remember telling you that regenerating was as good as dying and something along the lines of 'some new man' going off on his merry way and leaving the old me behind. Like a shed skin, except Time Lords don't shed so it's nothing like that, forget that." He swallowed, and Amy could definitely see the worry in his eyes. "Well, now that I'm that 'new man', I suppose I'm afraid, Wilf. I'm afraid of how you see me now."

Wilfred had yet to say anything, watching silently. "I'd actually thought to visit you, after I'd regenerated, because imagine my surprise when—after saving the whole planet from being incinerated—I found this in my old suit jacket pocket," he said as he produced a gun for them to see. Wilfred jumped at seeing the obviously familiar weapon, and his eyes shifted about guiltily.

"I should have returned it to you way before this. I've got no right to keep anything from you. This gun didn't even shoot anybody. This gun saved the world," he said with a nostalgic smile, and Wilf offered a tiny one in return. "The whole universe, really! But, as I said," he placed the gun back on the console and out of sight, "I was far too cowardly to face you. I don't think I'd have been able to survive seeing you look at me like some stranger not to be trusted."

The Doctor laughed bitterly. "Look at me! Still a coward, using a video to confront you. It's not what you deserve, Wilf. But I deserve a lot of horrible things and they've yet to happen to me. I guess the universe has to balance it out some way or another."

"You don't deserve bad things," Wilf muttered, but the Doctor on the screen paid no attention.

"I look different, and I act a little different, and I know it's weird, it's scary, it's- alien. And I'm sorry. But it's who I am, I suppose. One thing Donna always understood about me was I was weird, and scary, and alien," he chuckled, and Wilf's mouth tugged up into another smile. "By all rights, you should hate me no matter what face I'm wearing, Wilf. But you don't, and I—thank you," the Doctor broke off, taking a deep breath. "And all I can think of to say is…" he paused, seeming uncertain as to whether he should speak the words on the tip of his tongue. "I'd still be proud."

"Oh-" Wilf exclaimed quietly, bringing the handkerchief back up to his face.

The Doctor was smiling fondly through watery eyes. It faded as he said, "And now I have something for your granddaughter. I know, she won't ever see this—don't you dare, Wilf—but it'd be easier for me all the same- if I could just…say it to her…if you don't mind?"

Wilfred was shaking his head, indicating he didn't mind at all, and the Doctor wiped at his eyes a few minutes before giving a heavy sigh.

"Ok…Donna. Donna Noble, the most…important woman in the universe. Oh Donna, there's few things I've regretted more than what I did to you. I saved your life- against your wishes. I'm so sorry, Donna. But I couldn't bear to let you die. You'd tell me I had no right—and you'd be correct as always. But think of Sylvia and Wilf and how devastated they'd be without you. I'm not asking your forgiveness, Donna; I'm asking your understanding." He swallowed and looked away.

"But enough of that, eh? Let's focus on the good things. You're alive and I'm alive—and soon we'll both be living half-lives, wandering around and feeling so very lost in our own homes," he shook his head with a frown. "Sorry, that was rubbish. I- I never was very good at lying to you, Donna. I'm ashamed to say I've gotten better at doing so to others."

The Doctor's eyes darted about, desperately looking for some kind of distraction. His eyes landed on something off-screen, and he managed to collect himself. "Well, perhaps I should just skip to your gift. I had a very difficult time trying to find something both worthy of you and something that wouldn't remind you of the woman you should be all at the same time. I'm not sure I succeeded, but you be the judge of that. For a while, I almost decided not to get you anything at all—but how rubbish would that have been, right? And then I remembered," he said with a warm smile, "All those years ago- because it's been years Donna, so many long years for me –when you found me again. And you were all packed and ready to go! I was shocked," he laughed, and Amy felt a smile pull at her lips, being reminded of the little suitcase she had packed that night she waited.

"So I'm adding to your collection," he said, bending over and lifting a…hat box into the screen. "I think the Ponds can guess what's in here," he whispered conspiratorially, and she rolled her eyes despite herself. "I would be the happiest man—the happiest Martian, if you would accept it. Consider if a gift, Donna Noble, from the Planet of the Hats." He smiled, lost in memory for some time.

"You were my best friend Donna," he confessed in a quiet voice. "To you, I wasn't some grand Time Lord, or some knight in shining armor, or even some infallible hero. I was the Doctor, Donna Noble's Spaceman. Your grandfather said once that you were better with me, Donna. He was wrong. _I _was better with _you_. And I'd give anything if—"

He choked on the words, completely overcome, and merely opened and shut his mouth a few times. Wilfred's tears were running freely down his cheeks and onto his shirt, the handkerchief grasped tightly with both hands in his lap.

"The universe is lucky I'm not allowed to make trades, I suppose. Because there's nothing I can think of that would equal you."

"The DoctorDonna," he said softly. "I worry that every day, every breath might be your last, Donna. Because it's all still there. In the darkness of your dreams, in the deepest regions of your heart, in the secrets that you whisper to the stars. Behind your eyes, beyond your cares, above your hopes, and—you would have told me to shut up about now. Or slapped me. Probably slapped me," the Doctor decided, nodding in agreement with himself.

"I suppose I can't pretend any longer. You're not here, Donna. You're not even watching this. But I can't seem to find it in me to let go. Hold on, I told you, and you did. We ran, and run across the galaxies in the songs and celebrations of nations. You're a household God in Rome, Donna—remember that family? Spartacus," he chuckled. But his lip trembled.

"It was an honor, Donna Noble and Wilfred Mott. I think I shall miss you two very much. Such giants. I can only hope to stand half as high as you when I become human." Wilfred was shaking his head in obvious disagreement, but on the screen the Doctor merely brought his hand up in a salute.

"Goodbye, Wilf." He lowered his hand and whispered brokenly, "Goodbye, Donna." The recording stopped, and the room was silent. Each person took the moment to try and dry their eyes.

"I don't care what he looks like," Wilf said at last. "I just want him back."

"We should probably go, it'd be safest," Martha muttered. He showed them to the door, but Amy couldn't bear to look at the old man's sad, bleary eyes.

"How many are left?" Amy asked quietly when they were all back in the car. She wasn't sure how many more of those she could take. Rory started up the engine, and River waited until he was a good way down the street before replying.

"Three."

Amy felt as though the word had been a bucket of ice dumped over her, as she became sick with the realization that soon, it would be _her_ the Doctor would say farewell to.

OoO

"The Doctor?" John repeated, both eyebrows raised. "You'll have to be a bit more specific, Aaron. Just who is this 'Doctor'?"

"That's the thing. His name's just 'the Doctor'. But throughout history, he keeps, I don't know, popping up. Weird, isn't it?" Aaron scowled at the look of disbelief on John's face. "I'll prove it," he declared, throwing his backpack onto one of the cabinets and unzipping it. He removed a history textbook, and flipped to a page he had earmarked the corner of. "See?"

It was a collage of pictures, all dating around the 1930s and depicting the horrors of the Great Depression. Aaron was pointing to one snapshot in particular, of what appeared to be a Hooverville in New York City. The photo was not the best quality and in black and white, but in the corner, walking out of the frame, you could just make out—

"No," he whispered aloud, and Aaron nodded enthusiastically.

"See? Those two are dressed completely wrong for that time period, they're not even trying! And this bloke named Frank or something gives this eyewitness report of the Hooverville getting attacked and some Doctor stopping it." He could hardly pay attention to the words, however, because John was too busy staring in shock at the rather familiar-looking pair.

"That's not possible," he breathed.

"Why?"

"I've seen them, Aaron, I've seen them before on—"

"On a DVD extra, right? I know, I've seen it, too. There's seventeen different DVDs with that video," Aaron informed him matter-of-factly, and he could only gape at the teenager.

"How do you even know that?"

"The internet, of course. There's whole forums on that extra. I had a friend who tried looking up 'Martha', but then these weird guys in berets came to his house and basically told him to back off." Aaron spoke this like it was just the everyday, but John's jaw dropped once more.

"What?"

"Yep, berets. Couldn't believe it either," Aaron snickered, and John shook his head.

"But they threatened him to stop investigating?"

"Yeah," said Aaron grinning, though he wasn't sure for what reason. "Which only proves that there definitely is a Doctor, or something like it."

"It?" he wasn't sure why he sounded so affronted.

"Well, there was this other site, run by someone named Clive, that talked about the Doctor, too—but he looks completely different. Must be some kind of title or secret organization or something." Aaron looked delighted by the prospect. "Or…" he trailed off invitingly, and John took the bait.

"Or?"

"He's all the same man."

"But that's—"

"He called himself a time-traveler in the Easter egg," Aaron pointed out.

"He also said he knew everything that I was going to say, and I've been trying to block that out," he admitted, but the ginger-boy only rolled his eyes.

"Well he wasn't actually talking to _you_." John sagged against the nearest cabinet, both in relief and disappointment. "Anyway, I just want to try looking through some of the archives to see if I could find something."

"Right, yes, of course! Look away," he offered, and waited patiently for half an hour as Aaron looked through more and more stacks of papers, becoming noticeably more frustrated with each useless page.

"Aaron," he suggested after a time, and the boy looked up with a frown marring his features. "Perhaps you should try going into it with a specific idea of what you're looking for, instead of blindly searching."

"Yeah," the teenager muttered in agreement, and he felt perhaps he had won a great victory. He was starting to feel guilty about making Molly man the Help Desk _and_ restock the shelves.

"So!" He said, clapping his hands together once. "Discounting that 'same man' theory—because that's ridiculous, Aaron—we're looking for what? A secret Time Travel Agency of beret-wearing-threatening-types?"

Aaron was stubbornly shaking his head. "No, no- they have to be the same man. You can't run an organization where everyone has the same code-name."

"Code-name?" He asked in bewilderment.

"Well, that's obvious. Nobody's just born named 'the Doctor'." He had to nod in acknowledgement of that.

"What about this Martha, then? Is she with both these Doctors? That could prove you right."

"She isn't," the teenager admitted.

"Well there, you see? Can't be the—"

"But it's not just two of them."

"Sorry?"

Aaron rolled his eyes, but clarified. "There are more than two Doctors. There's different pictures and descriptions and everything! I've been having trouble verifying what's real and what's not, but I think I can guarantee there are at least- ten or eleven Doctors."

"Eleven!" John exclaimed. "Eleven of these mad men running about in their time machines?"

"No, just the one," Aaron ground out through clenched teeth. "They're all the same man. They never appear together, don't you think that's odd?"

"Well they're on separate missions or something, then, I don't know! Hard to work with a bunch of people all having the same name. How can they be the same anyway?"

"I don't know yet, haven't figured it out—"

"Then how do you know—"

"Because the blue box is the same!"

Aaron's words seemed to almost echo in the resulting silence. The blue box…that Doctor on the screen had said his time machine was a blue box…and Annemarie…

He shook his head and buried a hand in his hair. "Show me."

So Aaron led them back out to where the computers were and went on the internet. "Like I said, sometimes it's hard to tell if the sighting's genuine, but the ones with the box are harder to fake." He scrolled through picture after picture, and sure enough the faces ranged from old to young, blond to black, one weird outfit after another. But there was always the box. It had a light on the top, and the words _Police Public Call Box_.

"He's with the police then, this Doctor?"

"Don't think so," Aaron answered. "Though there is a mention of some bloke- code-named the Doctor –claiming he'd come from Scotland Yard with some other agents. They were doing something over in America in 1969, but I'd probably need stuff from the Library of Congress or wherever to confirm that—"

"Well there! 1969, you said? That other Doctor in the video said he was stuck then, too. They can't have both been in the same year if they're the same man." His smug grin was wiped off his face at Aaron's patronizing look.

"He's a _time traveler_. He could walk right up to himself and shake his hand if he wanted, I bet."

"Well that's just- that's dangerous, that is. Cheap tricks like that, you'd probably blow up the sun and destroy two-thirds of the universe or something," he grumbled, not liking the raised eyebrow the ginger-boy was giving him again.

"Why two-thirds?"

"I- I don't know, I—"

"Whatever," said Aaron, looking back at the screen. "I can't follow up on the lead in America, but I have found something on that bit with him stuck in 1969 and the- Angels or whatever they were." John tried to ignore the shiver that went up his spine. "There's this couple—the Nightengales—who posted a completed transcript of their conversation with him. It matches up perfectly."

"But then- what are the," he swallowed, "Angels?"

"Just statues, that's not the important part. The important part is that they've seen this Doctor. He's real and—"

"Johnny, I could really use some help," Molly had stuck her head out from behind a shelf and he jumped.

"Er, right! The Help Desk, right away. Aaron, later." The boy scowled in annoyance at Molly, but nodded.

"I'll be here again tomorrow," said the ginger-haired teen, scribbling something on a scrap of paper. "But here- it's the link to the transcript by the Nightengales." John was forced to accept it as Aaron shoved it into his hands, and he nodded obligingly.

He tried to concentrate the rest of the day, he really did, but all he could think about was that tiny piece of paper in his pocket. As soon as he ran home at the end of his shift, John typed the link into the computer he and Ron shared, and read the Nightengales' story about the Weeping Angels.

It was terrifying.

"What's that?" Ron said upon entering the flat, causing John once again jump a mile into the air.

"Nothing. Well, actually, I found something about that DVD extra online, and—"

"John," Ron groaned, "Just forget it. It was a prank- a joke! Some sick joke, and it's getting you all worked up for nothing. You barely sleep anymore! Molly's going frantic, you know," and the look his sandy-haired friend gave him made him avert his eyes in shame.

"Sorry, I- I suppose it affected me more than I originally thought."

"It's ok, mate. Just try and get some sleep, alright? Do that for her. Piece of cake."

But these days when he slept, it was never easy.

**Poor, poor Wilf. He's one of my favorites. I hate making him so sad, but it had to happen. And poor John! Aaron's determined to drag him down this crazy rabbit hole, where will it end? And next chapter…the Ponds will have to say goodbye to the Doctor. Thanks for all your responses, and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok, last one before school. I swear this time. I hope you guys are happy, I'm addicted to updating for this story. Mostly because of the extremely motivating responses you guys have been sending me. Thanks very much, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Nine**

He was standing in front of a mirror. At least, he thought it was a mirror, it felt more like one of those Fun House Glasses, though, because his reflection seemed very blurred and indistinct. He appeared to be at the end of an empty hall, except—there!...in the corner…of his eye…a door was opened a crack just showing a- red balloon?

He turned around to view it properly with his own eyes, but was met with the sight of four or five admittedly very pretty girls. Except for the huge fangs they snarled and growled at him with. But they hadn't been in the mirror a moment ago! Whirling back around he—

"Ah!"

"Oh, did I frighten you?" John Smith's blurred mirror image was gone, and in its place was a little man with a receding hairline and a wicked grin. He was dressed in a deep navy button down over a black t-shirt, and dark jeans. It was an exact copy—in darker shades—of the outfit he himself was wearing in this strange room. The frightening girls were nowhere to be seen in the mirror.

"But- the- you—who are you?" He squeaked, and the shorter man gave a heavy sigh.

"Oh dear, it seems you can't even manage full sentences anymore. What am I going to do with you?" He spoke in a light tone, but something in his eyes spoke of twisted mischief and malice.

"But who are you?" He demanded again.

"Oh!" Exclaimed the man with a look of mock surprise on his face. "Maybe you're not as lost as you thought. Go on, say it again, I _love_ it when you do that."

John started to back away, feeling uncomfortable and quite nervous with this strange man, but then remembered what he had seen behind him and stopped. "This- this isn't real, is it? I'm just dreaming."

His not-reflection sneered. "Of course it's a dream." He titled his head as if a thought had occurred to him, and grinned again. "But that doesn't mean it's not real."

John could only stare in confusion, and the other man huffed in impatience. "It really is a shame, this human mind of yours. It just can't keep up. How pathetic." Here a look of anger sprung to life on his wicked face, and John started backing away again, regardless of awful vampire-girls.

"Did you really think you'd escape _me_ by doing this, John Smith? Did you really think you could live a normal human life with a job and friends and a sweet little wife to have supper on the table at the end of the day. Well, you already have dear Molly wrapped around your finger—always were one for the ladies, you. Molly Pines- pines for whom, I wonder?" He gave an exaggerated jump and a gasp, as though just remembering. "Oh wait, I already know. And _those_ dreams would bring a blush to your cheeks, human or not."

John was only half-listening. Something- or things -had caught hold of his arms, and they were much stronger than vampire-girls. He struggled, but couldn't stop them from dragging him down the hall, away from the mirror, but despite the increased distance between them the little man's voice stayed just as loud.

"Getting in the middle, making another poor girl choose. Dear me, why _she_ ever lets you out I'll never know. You ought to be put away." Whatever had him had stopped, and he turned to see an increasingly familiar box- but in pitch black. The other man smirked and snapped his fingers, the doors of the box flying open to reveal—

"No," he breathed, even as the tugging on his arms began anew. His feet shuffled and skidded on the floor, trying desperately to make purchase. "Please, no!" He was forced into the hard, metal seat and John watched in horror and his arms were held down for the bulky, immovable restraints to snap themselves over his wrists. His ankles and waist were similarly restrained, and something came down over his shoulders, forcing him to sit back and merely stare—pleading—at the little man in the mirror far down the hall.

"Say goodnight for now, John," he gleefully spoke with a look of smug victory on his face as the doors slowly came together. "I'll be waiting."

"No, no—please!" He exclaimed into the ever increasing dark. As the last sliver of light went out, he screamed. "_**No**_!"

"Johnny, Johnny please wake up!" His eyes snapped open and he found himself, safe, in his own bed, tangled in the sheets and struggling against nothing. Molly was sitting on the mattress at his side with a hand on either of his shoulders and a look of troubled concern on her face.

"Oh," he said aloud, more to himself as he worked on getting his breathing under control. His chest was rising and falling in great heaves, and his heart hammered away inside his chest.

"Ron left for work a few minutes ago. I just told him I was going to stay and wait for you to wake up. I tried watching some telly, but then I heard you." She explained quietly.

"You were talking…in your sleep," she added when he said nothing. A shy smile and a tinge of pink colored her cheeks. "You said my name." She tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear as his gaze fell on her, and then leaned in to brush the fringe that hung down out of his eyes.

John shot up and back against the pillows in a sitting position, causing Molly's hands to fall away from him. But she scooted forward on the mattress to close the distance between them. "Johnny…" she said softly.

"Molly," he said in reply, casting furiously about for something- anything –to say to derail this. "How—did you and Ron meet?"

"Sorry?" She asked, frozen in confusion, but it gave him space and time to think.

"Well, you didn't grow up together, you don't have any mutual friends besides me- and you already knew each other then. How did you become friends?"

"He- he kept coming to the library. To check out books. And we'd talk. It was nice of him, I'd just moved here. Didn't know anyone outside of work. But- Johnny!" He had sprung out of bed at her mention of work.

"Sorry Molly," he said quickly, rifling through his drawers for some clothes, "I said I'd meet Aaron at the library. Said he'd found some—"

"It's your day off, it's our day off, I thought we could—"

"I told Aaron I'd help him with his project, Molly. That's a promise." Locating everything he needed, he headed for the bathroom to change, seeing as Molly didn't appear to want to leave his room. With a little frustrated noise, she stood from the bed and blocked his path.

"Johnny, I really don't think you should. This project- that Doctor that Aaron's going on about –that's when you started having all these bad dreams and acting funny. I don't think it's good for you. Please—"

"Well, maybe it's a sign, Molly. Maybe it's affecting me like this for a reason! It's weird, I can't explain it, but I can't just ignore it either. I have to go," he'd been edging around her the whole time and squeezed into the bathroom, shutting the door on her rather upset face.

When he'd finished getting ready minutes later, Johnny exited the bathroom to find Molly gone. Feeling the guilt welling up in him, he forced himself out the door and to the library.

"It'll be fine. She'll be alright," he muttered, ignoring for the moment that he was once again talking to himself.

OoO

It had been two days. Mickey's team still was getting no further, Colonel Mace's superiors were growing impatient for the TARDIS, but Amy still couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't want to finish the video.

"It's just, I know when I finish, that's it. I'll never hear him or see him again. I just can't do it, you know?" She confided to Gregory that afternoon outside the ship's doors.

"It must be hard to have that choice," he agreed. "When my family found out about Ross, that was it. I don't know if I would listen to it if he'd left a message for me."

"Why'd he have to go and care so much?" Amy burst out suddenly. "There's been loads of other people he's met- and a lot of them died. I'm so thankful he did it, but every time I see Martha or Mickey or Jack's face I just feel guilty that it was _my_ family he did it for. I can't imagine how River feels."

"Well maybe you should watch it then," Gregory reasoned. "It might give her some closure. You, too." She looked away, struggling with both sides of the argument, before finally slumping against the door in defeat.

"You're right," she whispered.

When she found Rory and River sitting quietly at the kitchen table, she did not even say a word. Wordlessly, they stood and followed her, settling inside the TARDIS as they had originally.

"And now the Ponds," the Doctor said, his eyes warm and tired and old. "Magnificent Ponds…I'll think I'll start with the eldest. Rory." Rory stepped forward silently. "Rory Williams. Mr. Pond, Rory the Roman, the Boy Who Waited two-thousand years, standing guard over his beloved. The admiration and respect I have for you, Rory, it knows no bounds."

The Doctor sighed, a rueful smile on his face. "I could always trust you to let me know when I was wrong, and to stand by me if I was right. Fantastic Rory, Funny Rory, Amy's Gorgeous Rory." Her eyes watered at words she both remembered and didn't.

"You've shouldered burdens, withstood pain, and always acted courageously all these years. You're older than me, Rory! That's _unbelievably_ rare, and yet the boy from Leadworth who used to dress up as a Raggedy Doctor and play pretend for the love of his life—that's who managed it." He took a shaky breath and Rory offered a tiny smile.

"All I've ever done is disappoint you time and time again. And I don't know how, but you still treat me like a friend—like _family_, Rory. You never had to do that, you never had to even remotely care about me- but, you did. You _cared_. You are so very human that way, Rory. And it's amazing."

The Doctor swallowed around a rather large lump in his throat. "Thank you, Rory. So much the better man than me." Rory shook his head, but of course the recorded Doctor did not acknowledge it. "You're an incredible nurse. You'll be an even more incredible doctor," he told him with a proud smile, and Rory scoffed self-depreciatively. "I mean it, Rory," the Time Lord said, causing her husband to jump. "Out of all the people in the world, you have no reason to think of yourself as any less."

The Doctor paused and then a grin threatened to split his face. "But I thought I'd help you along a bit. See, I've booked you an internship at the Royal Hope Hospital in London—one of the finest." Rory's jaw dropped in shock, and Amy felt her eyes go wide. "Not to worry," the Doctor hastened to add, "I didn't boost your qualifications or anything, you got in on your own merit—just tweaked your references so they'd pay a little more attention." His smile turned almost sly as he twirled the psychic paper between his fingers. Rory finally laughed in disbelief, pulling Amy to him in a hug. "I'm sure you'll pass your exams with flying colors!"

River had joined in their celebratory embrace, and for the first time in over a week, Amy felt completely at ease. But the Doctor's weary sigh brought them back to Earth.

"Oh, Rory. I have complete faith in you. Take care of Amy and River, will you? I know it doesn't need saying- but I—" Rory nodded solemnly at the screen.

"I will," he affirmed quietly, just as the Doctor whispered,

"Thank you. And goodbye, Rory." He took a deep breath, and when his eyes met the screen again she knew exactly what he was going to say and wished desperately that he wouldn't. "Amy."

Amy pulled away from the hug, taking a seat in the pilot's chair in front of the screen. "Yeah?" She whispered hoarsely, though he couldn't hear.

"Amy Pond…The Girl Who Waited. My little Amelia." He attempted a smile, and she tried for one, too. "Amelia, you helped me in so many ways. I'd only just regenerated when I crashed on top of your shed, and I was completely alone. But you gave me food, a brand new problem to solve, and most importantly your friendship. You showed me that it wasn't over, that I could keep going."

He sighed, and with a sad frown continued, "I've never felt more guilty for breaking a promise, Amy, than that five minutes that turned into twelve years. For whatever reason, I wasn't meant to come back for you. Doesn't mean I don't wish that I could."

"It doesn't matter," she murmured, "I just want you back _now_."

"It's so dangerous, Amy, travelling with me. But you never cared, you never blamed me. You made me feel less like a monster, Amy Pond." She wiped at her eyes at the look of pure gratitude on his face.

"Being with me has done so many bad things to you. But you don't let it bother you, Pond! You _never_ let the bad things spoil the good things. And you've added so very much to my pile of good things, Amy," he spoke in almost a whisper, smiling through his tears. She had a hand over her mouth and reached out for Rory's hand with the other.

"With that thought in mind, I knew exactly what I had to get you, Amelia. I took a little trip to an old friend for a commission." He leaned over and with great care lifted a flat rectangular object into view on the screen. It was the backside of a canvas. But the smile that blossomed on his face as he gazed at the other side…Amy's eyes were brimming with tears.

"You'll find it already in a frame…but I think you should see the original first." With the same caution as before, he set it aside. "Vincent was very happy to do that for me," he informed her, and Amy felt herself grinning widely despite herself at the mention of the wonderful painter.

"Well, at long last, it's time. There'll be no magic words, no stories to bring me home. You are absolutely amazing, Amy, and you can do anything. But…let me do this for you and Rory. At long last, let me bring Melody home to you." Amy brought the hand away from her face and reached out for her daughter, holding her and her husband's hands tightly, a single sob managing to break free.

"Live well, Amelia. Love Rory. Take care of River. Bye-bye, Pond," he whispered, and turned his face away for a long moment. Amy couldn't bear it and turned into her husband's waiting arms. He knelt by the chair as she buried her face in his sturdy shoulder, her own shaking with silent sobs. Rory did not move as her tears soaked his shirt, and she did not move as she felt his tears leak into her hair.

"River," she heard the Doctor say at last, and Amy slowly stood, allowing her daughter to take her place in front of the screen. "Hi honey, I'm- home," he faltered on the familiar phrase, wiping at his eyes one more time to collect himself.

"It had to be you, River Song. The one woman who's my intellectual equal—and then some. Who can run circles around me, infuriate me, make me face all my flaws, be the absolute _death_ of me—and still remain throughout it all completely, irresistibly, undeniably loveable."

River was smiling fondly at the screen, but her eyes were very sad and already wet.

"From that moment you took off your helmet in the Library, I think I was caught," he confessed openly. "In hindsight, there was no hope for me. Melody Pond, the girl tailored to be my undoing, who instead chose to become River Song, the woman who was still my undoing."

Her daughter laughed at that, her blonde curls shaking with the movement.

"I think I've caused you more grief than joy, River. I'm an absolutely horrid husband. For worse is what we are, I suppose. But you've made me so happy I'm too selfish to care. I'm so sorry, River. You could do so much better than me."

"You daft old man," her daughter whispered in disagreement, shaking her head earnestly.

"But you have your family now. No more of that wibbly-wobbly stuff. I've at least done that for you, my wife. Professor Song and the Ponds, next stop—everywhere. Because that's what I'm giving you, River. I'm leaving you the TARDIS."

River gave a sharp intake of breath even as a hand reached out to gently brush the console. The TARDIS gave a happy hum, the time rotor pulsing up and down. Amy and Rory both looked around in wonder. His beloved ship, all of time and space, 'Sexy'—he was leaving it all to their daughter. To _them_.

"I think she'd like that," the Doctor commented, and in the video the ship gave a hum of approval as well. "Consider it my wedding present. You deserve it most of all, River."

He sighed, running a hand affectionately along the console. "The days of the Doctor and the TARDIS are over. River and the TARDIS—now that will be something _amazing_."

"It won't be the same without you," she whispered, eyes closed against a wave of tears.

"I know it will be hard, but you can do this, River. I believe you can. You're so much stronger than I ever dared to be, my dear. You'll go on to be the greatest professor- the most fantastic archeologist- the most amazing time traveler the universe has ever seen. And you'll have your parents," he said with a fond smile. "The Ponds and the TARDIS."

"_You_ won't be there," she reiterated, unknowingly repeating her mother's words from long ago.

"I never thought- never hoped- never dreamed I would ever feel this way again, River. So thank you, my most amazing River Song. My wife."

River's tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, and she reached out a hand to touch his face on the screen lovingly.

"Goodbye, my love," they whispered in perfect sync, and then her daughter dropped her face into her hands, sobbing over the console that was now hers. Rory silently stopped the video as the Doctor turned away to shed his own tears, and joined Amy in wrapping their daughter in yet another embrace.

It was very long before they parted, and River quietly left for her room in the TARDIS. Rory and Amy exchanged sad glances, turning in opposite directions. Rory went out, likely to finish grieving on his own, and Amy walked down a corridor and went in the room containing her gift.

The most beautiful portrait she'd ever seen. Colors bright and happy and oh so very red swirled about to create a stunning image of herself. _My dearest Amy_, was Vincent's last message.

The Doctor had placed it in a frame with a title engraved into the metal. _The Ultimate Ginge_.

And Amy laughed and sobbed and curled up underneath it, wishing and wishing he were there to laugh and cry with her in this terrible, mixed-up pile of good things and bad things.

**Had to stop a couple times writing this, because I'm ashamed to admit I cried. How conceited of me is that? Anyway, thanks so much for all your support and for reading. Don't forget to leave a review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Well guys, I survived my first day of classes! Coming home to all your reviews really made my day, thanks so much! I think I've made you guys cry enough, not to mention myself, so things will be picking up a bit now. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Ten**

"Listen, I've made contact with a man, says he's got pictures of another Doctor."

"I thought you said there was only the one," John couldn't help pointing out. He wilted slightly under the glare Aaron sent him.

"I meant a different face. He's willing to meet in London tomorrow to exchange them."

"Aaron, are you sure that's safe? I mean, you don't even know this person, and London is a big city, and you're not even an adult," he protested, and was rewarded with another one of Aaron's faces that told him he was apparently being stupid.

"Of course it's not safe, that's why I'm not going." The teenager looked at him pointedly.

"Well then how are you going to get the—oh, you mean me!" This time was only an eye roll, which he counted as a minor success.

"Yes, you. Here, I've written all the information you need on this paper, so take that with you," he handed it over and John tucked it away in—_**not a pocket**_—his back jeans pocket.

"How do we know he's telling the truth?" He was relieved Aaron wasn't going to be placing himself in danger, but wasn't sure he wanted to go meet this mysterious man only for it to be some kind of scam.

"He emailed me this," Aaron said, pulling up an attachment on the library computer. It was a black and white photo once more of the blue box standing against the wall of some kind of- underground bunker? "Says it was taken in the Cabinet War Rooms during World War Two."

"Well," was all he managed. This Doctor sure did manage to get into some interesting places. "Hang on—why am I even going?"

That had been yesterday. Today, John Smith found himself being shunted along a busy street in London as tons of Grumpy Face Londoners made their way about their normal lives.

"And here I am on an errand for a teenager I just met two weeks ago," he muttered to himself, deciding to not acknowledge the people who stared at him as he did so. "You better appreciate this, Wood." John turned off the busy street, feeling rather trapped within the crowd, and wandered a bit. Sure, Aaron had given him step by step instructions to the place, but a little detouring never hurt anyone.

Besides, London was a great city to get lost in.

He found himself turning this way and that as he walked, waving hello to those who passed, and simply _seeing_ it all. It was exhilarating. A brand new city at his feet and no one but himself to tell him where to go, what to do.

His musings were cut short, however, by the thunderous, rumbling, grating-on-the-ear-splitting noises associated with a construction site. It appeared as though a team of workers was working on a new building just twenty paces or so down the street from him. It was almost deserted of other walkers simply because of the awfully loud sounds. The old city of London was ever-changing it seemed.

John almost went on, about to turn and go back the way he'd came, when it seemed like everything around him slowed. It was like his eyes were taking it all in, yet he moved in present time, his own faster tempo.

The crewmen were hoisting some kind of piping into the air, using a pulley and rusting chains. But the links on one were creaking, chaffing, cracking under the strain. That was fine, the pipe would slowly swing in an arc and one end would touch down on the sidewalk next to the site—except a woman with long, red hair was walking right into its path. Her back was to him, and the din made by construction activities would drown out any warning he attempted to yell to her. There was no way he could get her to move…

So he ran. Feet pounding on the pavement, breath loud in his ears, John reached as far as he could with both arms as the world picked up the pace. With a last burst of speed, his hands touched upon her back and pushed, causing the woman to stumble forward, her head going down and the pipe harmlessly sailing overhead.

He would have sighed in relief. But he didn't have the time.

OoO

They sat in front of Colonel Mace's desk, which made Amy feel almost like she was back in primary school being lectured by the principle again. Her daughter sitting at her side didn't lessen the comparison one bit, considering her upbringing as Mels. Rory was in the chair next to River, and Martha, Mickey, and Jack were all standing to the side, waiting to intervene if necessary.

She thought it was going to be necessary.

"So the Doctor's will has been completely carried out?" the UNIT officer asked.

"It has," she replied.

"Good. I hope you will not think UNIT a monster, Mrs. Williams, we are not heartless. Now, however, the TARDIS must be secured so that it may be kept safe—both for itself and for the Earth."

"You're right, the TARDIS should be looked after," Amy agreed, and he nodded in approval. "But it's staying with us. She's staying with us."

"Why does the Earth need protection from the TARDIS anyway?" Rory questioned even as Colonel Mace bristled at her defiance.

"The Doctor's not the only one who can pilot it—or use it," Martha stepped in to explain. "I've seen it turned into a Paradox machine and create a whole year that no one else even remembers. It was horrible."

Amy childishly wanted to argue that _she'd_ seen the TARDIS explode and cause the end of the universe that no one else remembered aside from her family, but realized that probably wasn't the smartest move to make in this very tense room. The warning look Rory sent her also helped.

"But if someone- hypothetically –could pilot the TARDIS," Rory asked, "and use it only like the Doctor did, then that would be fine, right? I mean, you let him do it."

"If that were the case, then yes," the Colonel grudgingly agreed. "But we would advise that—"

"Ok, discussion over then," Amy interrupted triumphantly. "River can fly the TARDIS."

"What?" Martha asked, surprise clearly displayed on her face.

"Perfectly," she added proudly.

"No way," Mickey said, shaking his head in shock and his mouth slightly agape.

"She learned from the TARDIS herself, and the Doctor taught her," Amy finished, almost smug with the astounded look on Colonel Mace's face.

"I bet that was a fun time," Jack teased, practically leering.

"You have _no_ idea," River smirked, tilting her head back to see him.

"He left it to her, in his will," Rory explained. "So- so that means she can keep it, right?"

"Well- when I said—I meant that- it'd still—" the Colonel's mouth was working furiously, obviously trying to come up with some new obstacle. Amy frowned, crossing her arms, and was about to speak again when the Captain's hand touched her shoulder.

"Colonel, you did just agree if an eligible pilot could be found that the Doctor trusted, there is no reason UNIT can just spirit the TARDIS away." The American took a couple more steps, planting himself behind River and gently laying his hands on her shoulder. "And would you really deny this grieving widow her husband's last gift to her?"

If Amy thought she had dropped a bombshell before, that had been nothing compared to this.

"Grieving _what_?" Mickey exclaimed.

"Husband?" Martha choked out in a whisper, eyes wider than saucers. "Oh my God."

"Captain, what are you saying?" Colonel Mace demanded. "There are no records of the Doctor—"

"You didn't even have his current regeneration on file," Jack dismissed.

"There wasn't near enough time for a proper ceremony," River said quietly, the tiny smile on her face indicating she was choosing to reminisce rather than focus on the present. "And Sweetie can get quite shy about these things."

"Oh, it's _Sweetie_?" Jack exclaimed with almost unholy glee.

"So?" Amy interrupted, looking at the Colonel questioningly.

"Well- I suppose—" the officer sighed in frustration, clearly defeated. "In respect of the Doctor's wishes, we shall leave the TARDIS in the possession of his…spouse. Seeing as how we've made no further progress from this location in locating the Doctor, we shall be moving back to base. Smith, inform the other officers. Dismissed."

They all filed out of the Colonel's office, but Amy saw River catch Martha by the arm.

"I'm sorry I haven't said anything before…I just didn't think I'd be able to talk about it." She offered the UNIT doctor an apologetic look, and Martha gave a small smile back.

"It's ok, I never really imagined he'd…I'm so sorry, River." Martha wrapped the older woman in a hug, before pulling away to begin preparations to leave Upper Leadworth. Amy stepped out of the trailer to find Gregory coming off-shift from guard duty. He was speaking into his radio.

"…ship will be staying here—"

"Hey," she greeted, and he looked up.

"Oh, good afternoon, ma'am."

"Who was that?" She asked, gesturing to the radio on his shoulder. His eyes went to it as well.

"Headquarters. The Colonel told me to report in."

"So, you're leaving," she said, and he nodded. "Take care of yourself, yeah?"

"I will, ma'am," he said with a smile.

"And if some big, scary alien army has you, and your superiors tell you to fight, you just grab your friends and do what the Doctor always said," she instructed.

"And what was that, ma'am?"

"Run." She said simply, and Gregory chuckled. Amy found herself smiling at the young soldier.

"Amy!" Rory called from the house. "Phone for you!"

"Coming!" She replied, starting over, but turning as she ran to yell, "Goodbye!" to Gregory. He waved back with a smile, and then walked up the steps to the trailer. Amy reached the house and took the phone from her husband.

"I'm not sure, but I think it's—"

"Hello?" Amy asked into the receiver, preferring to just get it over with.

"Hello, is this Amy Pond?" The familiar, frantic voice of Craig Owens replied. "I got the number off your website, only I wasn't sure if it was really yours or just your agent or- or—"

"Yeah, Craig, it's me," she confirmed as patiently as she could.

"I wasn't even sure if you had an agent—but Sophie says to tell you she loves your stuff, and—"

"Craig," she finally ground out, not being known for her patience. "What is it?"

"Oh- um, well I was watching the telly and—have you seen the news?"

"What?" She asked bewildered, but a _blip_ from the phone and a flashing screen told her there was a call waiting, the number not recognized. "Hang on, can I put you on hold?"

"But—" was all Craig Owens got to say before she pushed the 'hold' button.

"Hello?" She asked again.

"Amy? This is Sarah Jane," said the investigative journalist, and Amy grinned.

"Hey, I'm glad you called actually, cause—"

"Amy, I think you should turn on the news," the other woman said, her tone completely serious.

"Why?" She inquired even as she moved into the living room and picked up the remote.

"I'm not sure I can explain, I've really got to get down there, but I thought you should know." Amy had already pressed 'power' and scrolled through channels to the news. "I'm afraid I have to go now. Amy? Amy?" The older woman eventually gave up, cutting off the connection. But Amy stood, letting the dial tone sound, as she watched in fascination, wonder, and growing horror.

"Rory? Rory! Stop that trailer!"

OoO

Donna Noble had been out to London. Why? Because she bloody well felt like it, who even needed a reason just to go into the city anyway?

Truth was, Donna didn't like to sit still these days. She was always moving about, starting and stopping. Sean had accused her of losing interest. She'd accused him of being boring. So it hadn't been the best breakup, and she'd cried over the divorce, but the sadness didn't set in really _deep_, you know? Nothing did, anymore.

Except maybe Gramps. He was the only one in the world who listened to her mad, dissatisfied rambling all the time. He'd nod sagely and then bring up some story about her childhood and they'd laugh and things would seem almost better again. But then she'd look up at the sky and sigh wistfully, the same melancholy thoughts plaguing her once again.

She went out by herself because there was nothing else she could do. She no longer had a husband, she had no friends, and she certainly wasn't going to try going out for lunch with her mother. The thought nearly made her laugh.

No, Donna was content to traverse the streets of London by herself, and then come home to her Gramps in the evening. Although even that routine was beginning to become tiresome. Nothing made her days stand out from one another—except…

Donna had come home one night less than a week ago to find her old grandfather cleaning his gun. That wasn't odd, though she didn't remember him having done so in recent years. What was odd was that he appeared to have just been crying. And there was a package for her.

He'd claimed he had no idea where the box came from, but watched intently as Donna opened it. If she had taken a guess, she would have said it looked like a hat box, and it contained—

"A _fez_?" She'd exclaimed, lifting the thing out of its container. "A bloody fez! Why did someone give me a fez? Am I supposed- to wear it?" She'd demanded, plopping it on top of her hair for moment, and knowing in her head it probably looked awful. "You'd have to be from- from _Mars_ or something to think this was in fashion!"

"Yes, from Mars," her Gramps had chuckled weakly, but his eyes had grown increasingly watery. She'd dropped it after that, and despite her initial objections, the fez sat proudly in a place of honor on top of her dresser.

But today had been just like any other, until she was walking down a mostly-empty sidewalk—miracle, that was—and some complete dunce shoved her from behind! She thought she heard some kind of whooshing noise and a pained grunt, but it was hard to tell over all the annoying noise- and _nobody_ shoved Donna Noble.

"Oi! Watch it, Sunshine—" she shouted, whirling about to properly face her assailant, but there was not a single soul standing before her.

No, but there was a young man with floppy brown hair lying on the ground, his arms wrapped around his middle and face clenched in agony. A metal pole rested on its end a few feet away.

"Oh- oh my God!" She exclaimed in a more hushed voice, before dropping to her knees beside him. "Are you hurt?" Donna asked, mentally cursing herself for the stupid question. Of course he was!

"No…it's ok…I'll be fine…" the man gasped out, voice strained and breaths coming quick and shallow. "I'll- I'll—_argh_!" A strangled cry of pain make it past his lips, before he clamped his mouth shut again.

"Alright, I'm just going to- uh- um—call for help. Just hang on!" She requested in a panicked voice, watching him writhe on the ground in pain. Donna pulled out her mobile and quickly dialed 999.

"What's your emergency?"

"Please, there's a man- hurt. I think he may have saved my life!" She explained rapidly what had happened, then got quite irritated with the person on the other end when they asked that she do it again, but calmer. When she was told help was on the way, Donna hollered, "Well hurry up!" into the receiver before slamming it shut.

She looked back down to see her young savior trying to push himself up into a sitting position. "No, no, don't do that!" She fussed, pushing him back down and wincing as he yelped at her touch. She laid his head gently as she could on her lap. "They said you've got to stay awake," Donna told him, nervous as he screwed his eyes shut against the pain.

The young man nodded once to show he understood, then said through gritted teeth, "Keep talking. Please," he added with a slight whimper.

"But what do I even say?" She looked around wildly for some kind of topic. "Ok," she decided, "let's get introduced then. I'm Donna Noble." She forced a smile on her face, even if he couldn't see it.

"John Smith," was all he managed before trying to stop another moan.

Donna looked up then, finally registering the people who had started coming out of shops and buildings and from the construction site. They were all staring and whispering amongst themselves, but giving the two of them a wide berth. A couple of the younger looking ones had taken out their camera phones.

"Oi! If you're not going to even _help him_, leave him alone!" But another muffled sound from John Smith brought her attention back to him. "John? _John_? You- you don't have to hide that you're in pain. It's ok, I'll stay with you." She ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe and steeled herself.

It didn't make the scream any less.

OoO

_We're back with a story from London. Late this morning, a construction accident almost ended an innocent woman's life. Donna Noble, a resident of Chiswick, was taking a walk through the city, when she unknowingly walked into the path of a falling object from the worksite. But due to the heroic actions of this young man, John Smith, she was saved. You can see from the CCTV footage how he just manages to push her from harm's way. Unfortunately, he is currently in the Royal Hope Hospital, having sustained rather severe injuries. A spokesman from the hospital has said that he will likely make a full recovery, but gave no more information on the subject._

_Now onto…_

**Have I surprised you? Expect an update in the next couple of days, unless I finish the next chapter tonight. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Back with another update for you all. Thanks so much for the reviews, and I am quite happy that you were all pleasantly surprised. Donna's probably my favorite companion (sorry, Ponds) so I simply can't resist putting her in my story. At any rate, you're all probably much more interested in reading the chapter, so read away!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eleven**

The conference room in the UNIT trailer was in absolute turmoil. Mickey and Jack were arguing after the Captain had made a derisive comment on UNIT's failure at finding a man wandering around England's own capitol, Martha was trying to get them to quit it while also attempting to look up the Royal Hope's records, Colonel Mace was yelling for order, and River was watching and re-watching the CCTV footage, face completely drained of any color.

"Right, all of you shut up!" Rory finally roared, every inch the Last Centurion. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared, stunned like many others had been before at the authority in the normally quiet man's voice. Amy gave her husband a grateful smile, before turning back to face the others.

"So, Colonel Mace, now that you have located the Doctor—and it doesn't matter how Jack, Mickey—what are you going to do?" She raised an eyebrow at the officer and he recovered himself.

"Well, in his current condition we cannot move him," the Colonel began. "We will however, have a rotating guard—"

"No you won't," Jack interrupted, and the UNIT officer snapped his mouth shut with an affronted look.

"I beg your pardon, Captain?"

"You're forgetting that John Smith didn't save just any woman. He saved _Donna Noble_. A woman who is not allowed to remember anything about the Doctor or her time spent with him. And knowing Donna Noble, she's not about to let the man that saved her out of her sight until she's convinced herself he's not going to die on her. UNIT is a very well-intentioned organization," he started, wary of offending Mickey again, "but it is one of the most conspicuous I have ever met. If she sees just one of you, she could remember and she could die. And if he were to ever remember after that, then you will die. Got it?" Jack finished, deadly serious.

Colonel Mace nodded once. "Understood."

Martha sighed, "Jack's right. We have to protect Donna, so UNIT can't get involved." Amy couldn't help the relief she felt at these words. She knew where her friend was now—sure, he was injured, but supposed to make a full recovery—and that's what she had said she wanted. All this talk about what they were or were not going to do with this new knowledge was making her nervous on his behalf.

Not to mention her steadily growing curiosity. Much as she tried desperately to quash it in the early stages, Amy couldn't help but wonder. What was John Smith like? Where did he live? What sort of job did he have? Did he have any friends? Was he happy?

She knew the more she asked herself these questions, the more likely she'd be to force Rory to drive her to the Royal Hope straightaway. Which was exactly what the Doctor had said not to do. So she couldn't.

But still, a little nagging voice in her head persisted in asking since when she had listened when the Doctor said not to follow him.

"We can't just leave him, though," Mickey reasoned, turning towards his wife. "You said he was rubbish at being human." Oh, just great.

"Well, he was," Martha agreed. "But he might have gotten better at it. This was an isolated incident—"

"That nearly ended his life," the Colonel interrupted. "I believe we shall take Smith's earlier suggestion of surveillance, at least for the time being."

"I just said you can't—" Jack started angrily, but the UNIT officer cut across him smoothly.

"Not a guard, Captain. It just so happens we have a perfectly placed operative just waiting for the order."

"Oh, really?" Jack scoffed, but stopped at the look on Martha's face. "Sorry," he apologized, "I guess I'm just upset. The Doc almost…well—" he glanced once at River who had been sitting quietly throughout the proceedings, then dropped his gaze to the floor. "Who's your operative, Colonel?"

OoO

That was how Rory Williams found himself starting his internship to become a doctor early. He hadn't been due to begin for another week, but UNIT oh-so-kindly rushed the paperwork through for him.

"Fantastic," he mumbled to himself as he drove into the city. "Can't even go to work without the universe depending on it."

Amy had begged and pleaded with him to bring her along, but he'd told her he didn't think interns were allowed to bring their spouses to work- especially on the first day. Truthfully, though, he was worried. He knew right now his wife was only running on the adrenaline of having found their eccentric friend again, but inside she was an emotional wreck. Her going to see John Smith, as he was apparently named, would only be a bad thing.

Rory didn't even think it was a good idea for him to be seeing the other man. What if he remembered him? What if he didn't? He didn't know what the result would be in the case of the former, and wasn't sure how it would affect him if it was the latter. But he was Rory the Roman, and he could take it.

It turned out he didn't even get to see the Doctor for the first few days. It was only after tours of other wards that were no less important that they made their way to individual rooms. He thought to himself that John Smith had to be pretty rich to afford his own room in one of the best hospitals in London, but then realized that was stupid because a man that rich wouldn't be hard to look up on a computer.

"Now, if the patient is willing, we will take a look inside one of the private rooms. These usually go to those who are more long-term patients. Mr. Smith?" The instructor called, tapping lightly on the door. Rory nearly jumped at the name, suddenly quite nervous. If or if not the Doctor remembered, how should he act? What should he say? Should he say anything?

"Hullo!" A jovial and terribly familiar voice called out, and Rory found himself surprised. He never pictured a human being sounding like the eleven-hundred-something Time Lord. The Doctor was much too…alien.

His thoughts came to a halt, however, as he and the rest of the interns all filed in after their instructor. "This is Mr. John Smith, some of you may have seen him on the news the past couple of days—" the older man began, but Mr. Smith—looking entirely absurd sitting up in bed with the sheets over his lower half and dressed in a hospital gown—interrupted.

"Are they really still playing that, Charles?" The hospital patient had that look on his face that Rory knew meant he couldn't for the life of him understand why something was happening. From a sparking wire in the TARDIS to a strange monster he'd never faced to a Roman wanting to stand guard over his fiancée for two-thousand years.

"Occasionally, John," 'Charles' answered patiently, "I've heard you've become quite a sensation on YouTube."

"Really?" Now it was that look of open childish curiosity and excitement, quite easy to identify. "I'm afraid I've been quite out of it. Keep falling straight back to sleep after an hour or so. Nothing to worry about, though," now he gave one of those confident smiles that said he had either figured everything out or that he was completely lying to your face. Sometimes both. And all Rory could think was that if John Smith didn't want to recognize him, that would be fine, as long as he didn't keep stealing all his friend's expressions.

Charles the Instructor frowned slightly at the man's words. "Probably too high a dosage." He turned out to face his interns. "Mr. Smith is incredibly responsive to medications, particularly pain killers. Sometimes- most times, less is more." He took the clipboard at the end of the bed and scribbled some kind of note in it.

Of course his body was responsive to the drugs, Rory wanted to argue, they'd never before been introduced into his system because they were _bad for him_. He suddenly felt quite thankful that the Arch had changed the Time Lord's inner biology as well as taking the memories, as otherwise the Doctor would be quite dead.

"John, I do believe some of your visitors have left things for you such as a change of clothes if you should feel up to it," Charles told the other man, and motioned for the interns to follow him out the door. While Rory waited for the line to move, he couldn't resist grabbing at the clipboard. He had to be certain his friend was ok.

"Severely bruised ribs, some torn cartilage, and a minor concussion," Mr. Smith rattled off helpfully, and he sheepishly returned the clipboard to its proper place. "But thank you," the man added as Rory turned to head out.

"For what?" He asked sharply, spinning about immediately.

"For caring," John Smith said, with a tiny sincere smile that Rory definitely did not want to see on this stranger's face. "Best intern I've seen."

"Right," he nodded, forcing his legs to turn around and start walking again. "Thanks." He was barely clear of the door when a woman he recognized only from CCTV footage came barreling toward him.

"Out of my way, the tea's still hot," Donna Noble barked at him, and Rory jumped aside almost as if on instinct. "Oh good, you're really awake," he heard her begin in a softer voice as she entered the room. "Thought I'd grab lunch, whatever they give you here'll be rubbish, so I popped down to the shop—" The door swung shut and he could hear no more of their conversation.

Ok, so Jack had been right. Donna Noble was sticking to her new-old best friend like glue. He supposed it was a good thing, that the two of them had found each other again, in this weird convoluted way. But it was just so…sad that neither of them realized.

With a start, he ran down the hall after his group, and tried to put these thoughts from his mind.

OoO

"You really didn't have to, Donna," John said as she gently placed the food in his lap.

"I wanted to," she insisted, taking the visitor's chair next to the bed.

"Are you sure? Because you don't owe me anything—"

Donna scoffed. "Only my life, you mean!"

"Yes," he conceded, "but I didn't—I'm not expecting—I didn't do that so you would just, I don't know, fawn over me or something—"

"Oi, watch it!" she warned, almost poking him in the nose with her finger. "I'm not some silly dumbo in distress." He nodded quickly in agreement, almost in fear as she scowled at him.

"Course not," John added helpfully, which seemed to do the trick as her face smoothed out into a satisfied smile.

"But you did help me, so I thought I'd help you. That's what friends are supposed to do." She looked at him curiously as his face split into a huge beam at her words.

"Are we friends?" He asked, completely surprised but overjoyed. Friends! He didn't have many of those, aside from Molly and Ron. John liked to think of Aaron as his friend, but had a suspicion the younger male only saw him as a helpful imbecile. Donna rolled her eyes, almost like Aaron would, at his question.

"Well d'uh!" She laughed as she said, "My Gramps bloody loves you! Way he's talking, he might just adopt you!"

"Really?" John asked, full of wonder. He'd never been adopted, according to the few paper records they'd found in the library archives. To have a real, proper family…Hang on, grown men didn't get adopted. Donna rolled her eyes again at his pout.

"I'll bring you round for dinner sometime after you get better," she offered, before turning her attention to his untouched sandwich. "Now eat that! Surprised that pole didn't snap you right in half, you're so skinny."

Obediently, he took a bite. "Well, it didn't do as much damage as it could have, partially because it was still slightly restrained, so the momentum was being slowed. If you combine that with wind resistance and inconsistent—" He broke off at the muddled and slightly annoyed look on Donna's face, and realized he had absolutely no idea what he was babbling on about anyway. John tried a different topic. "I was hoping a bit to try some of the hospital food. I've never had hospital food before. Come to think of it, I've never been in a proper hospital before—huh! That's new," he remarked, almost to himself with a little smile.

"Oh, you're _weird_."

"Am I?" He asked with interest. Molly and Ron had never said. Perhaps that was why Aaron always gave him those funny looks.

"What? You don't know?" She asked, both amused and incredulous.

"Haven't the slightest clue," he found himself confessing, more honest than he had ever been, even with Dr. Landy. "Haven't the faintest idea who I am. There was an accident- and I just- I don't—" He sighed, running a hand through his hair and ignoring the slight discomfort it caused his injuries. "I feel…lost in my own skin, sometimes. Is that weird?"

"Yeah," she nodded solemnly, and he looked down at his lap, quite ashamed. "But that's ok," Donna added, causing John to look up again. "Cause I'm lost, too." He returned her tiny smile, before furrowing his brow in confusion.

"What do you mean—"

"Johnny!" Molly exclaimed as she threw the door open, instantly at his bedside. "Thank goodness you're awake!" He couldn't stop the panic that flitted across his face as she leaned in as though to hug him, but she seemed to remember his injuries and jerked back awkwardly.

This, of course, allowed him to view Donna's smirk and suggestively raised eyebrows as she mouthed, "_Johnny?_" He flushed.

"H- hi, Molly," John stammered, patting her awkwardly on the arm in greeting as he looked about for some kind of distraction. He found it in the form of Ron in the doorway. "Hello, Ron!"

"Hey, mate, good to see you up," his flat mate replied, though his eyes were on Molly as she took a seat next to John on the bed, angled in toward him with her legs hanging over the edge.

"Donna Noble," Donna introduced herself, standing to shake both of his friend's hands.

"We know," Molly said quickly, before facing him again.

"You and John made the front news of the local paper," Ron elaborated.

"Oh, I'm a celebrity now? Brilliant," Donna commented, before heading for the door. "I think I'm going to go home, let you talk with your friends," she told him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lost Boy."

He grinned, despite Molly's puzzled and almost suspicious look. "See you tomorrow, Donna Noble."

"She seems…nice," his brunette friend mentioned once the redhead exited.

"Oh, Donna? Yes, Donna's rather fantastic," he agreed.

"Sounds kind of serious," Ron observed, seeming almost joking except for the hopeful look in his eyes.

John sighed. "Not like that." He then chose to ignore the hopeful look in Molly's eyes. "Donna's just a friend. An important friend, just like you two. And all I want is for my friends to be happy."

"All I want is to see you get better," Molly said determinedly, and John had to resist collapsing back onto the pillows with defeat. "How long did they say?"

"If no complications arise, I could be back home within a week or so," John told them. "But it'll probably be another three weeks or more until I'm one-hundred percent again."

"Well, that's a shame," Ron said in sympathy, finally coming over to pat his shoulder. The sandy-haired man took Donna's unoccupied seat.

"Oh Johnny, why did you do it?" Molly sighed, shaking her head.

"Well I had to," he defended, before stopping. He'd missed something. John glanced out the little window in the door to his room…he'd seen- what? What had he seen? He saw it, and he missed it, but what was it?

There!

"Go invite him in," John requested, gesturing out the door as that intern—the one from before with the very long nose who had cared—and Ron looked at him in bewilderment.

"Ok…" his friend stuck his head out the door uncertainly, and John heard him invite the intern inside. The man shuffled in awkwardly, an incredibly uncomfortable look on his face.

"Can I…help you?" He asked.

"You've passed by this door three times in the last five minutes," John remarked, somehow knowing that that was absolute fact. "Why?"

"Oh," the intern said, looking alarmed and almost…guilty? "Well, it's my break," he explained, "only I don't really know anyone so I was just…walking around, I guess."

"Oh," John said, repeating the man and feeling quite disappointed. He had no idea why, but he realized he'd been hoping for something much more exciting. "Well," he brightened, "you're welcome to sit in here. I'm John."

"Yeah," the man nodded, "I know—I was here."

John continued with the introductions anyway. "These are my friends, Molly and Ron."

Molly and Ron for their part seemed slightly unnerved by his behavior, but he didn't give it much thought. Too many other things to be thinking about.

"Nice to meet you," the man offered, staring at them rather warily. "I'm…Rory."

"Rory? That's a great name—Rory the Intern." Rory flinched and he blanched as well. "No, forget that, that's a rubbish name…need something with an 'R'."

"How come I don't have a nick-name?" Ron asked, partly curious and partly amused.

"Hmm…that's true, I'll have to think of yours later," he noted.

"I really don't need—" Rory said, just as Ron replied,

"Mate, I wasn't actually being serious. Ron is fine. You sure you didn't get a concussion, too?"

Molly gasped. "What if you did and they just didn't notice?"

"Ma'am, I can assure you—" Rory tried to speak again, but she spoke over him.

"How do you know? You're just an intern!"

"It was a joke, Molly, no need to get mad at the intern," Ron reasoned, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"But Johnny could be hurt- he could be—"

"Molly, calm down!"

It took him nearly a minute to realize that the voice that had spoken with such authority, and sounding quite cross, had been his.

"Sorry," he said to the three people now staring at him in silence, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't mean—just tired," he muttered.

"You should get some sleep," Molly said gently, letting Rory lower the bed back into a horizontal position, pulling the covers up over him. He still couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, filled with shame for snapping at her like that.

"G'night, mate," Ron offered, and heard them all quietly leave his room, someone turning the lights off.

He could hear the funny little man…funny hats and funny dances at Cousin…the man in the mirror laughing at his mistake already, even as his eyes blinked shut.

OoO

Rory leaned heavily against John Smith's doorway, drained after just the brief encounter. "He's probably just groggy, he didn't mean to be rude," he heard himself saying to the two…what were their names?

"Of course," the female of the pair nodded with absolute certainty, looking to the man who seemed to take his cue and nodded as well…just like he and Amy would…

Oh. He had replaced them. He didn't know whether to feel flattered or betrayed.

"Great," Rory murmured under his breath, unable to stop some of the bitterness leaking through. What gave these people the right to steal their friend? To steal their _family_?

"Is something the matter?" He looked up into her concerned, brown eyes and realized why. The Doctor always chose his friends carefully. These were good people, nice people. And they didn't know- couldn't know.

"No, you just…remind me of me and my friends. My two friends I—had," he elaborated, faltering on the past tense word. "My fiancée had this friend, and he was…not normal. But that was ok."

"So what happened?" The man asked, seeming to be preparing himself for the worst. "To your fiancée and her…friend."

Rory looked right at him, understanding that to this relative stranger, the answer was everything. "Well, we had our _big day_," he grinned, holding up his left hand to display his ring. "And he kept being himself, I suppose…until he wasn't—I mean, wasn't there. I haven't seen him for, er, a bit," his eyes darted nervously towards the closed door, then back to the pair.

The man looked incredibly relieved. "Oh. Well…thanks, mate," he said with a grin. "Come on, Molly, we should go."

"Alright," Molly acquiesced after a moment, though she took one last look at the door.

"Right, I have…work. I should be- getting back to that," Rory mentioned, half to them and half to himself. He walked away from them and hoped for their sake they all got everything sorted. It seemed as though John and the Ponds 2.0 were in the Early Days.

Ponds 2.0…what was he going to tell Amy?

**So that was me trying out some Rory perspective. What did you think? Donna and John are getting to know each other better, or rather re-getting to know each other. Going to try and get the next chapter up either tonight or tomorrow…we'll see how that goes. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Diving right into the next chapter for you folks. Thanks for all your feedback and interest in general! I know I've mostly kept it to an Amy-John/Doctor POV, but now that I've gotten comfortable with them I'm just trying out new perspectives. Plus, Amy and John/the Doctor can't be there for _everything_ in this story. So if you've been wondering why that's been happening, there you have it. Enjoy the next chapter! **

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Twelve**

"How was the Doctor today?" It was always the first question Gregory asked her these days, after Rory came home from work and told her himself. Amy huffed in slight annoyance. Gregory was a nice enough kid with some good ideas, but he didn't seem to be much of a conversationalist. She'd had in-depth discussions with all sorts of aliens on other worlds…why couldn't she seem to move past one topic with a being of the same species?

"He's checking out tomorrow, apparently," Amy started, and frowned just like Gregory did. Yes, it had been both a blessing and a curse hearing about John Smith's life in the hospital. But soon she'd have nothing at all. "Molly and Ron are picking him up."

Molly Pines and Ron Sherwood. The Doctor's new friends…she couldn't say she was their number one fan. She supposed Ron was harmless enough, but Molly she didn't like the sound of. No one tried to move in on her daughter's husband. Well, except for her—but it was the one time and in complete fairness, she hadn't even known he was her daughter's husband. Neither had he, for that matter. And neither of them had known she even had a daughter.

"What'll UNIT do, do you think?" She asked him curiously, and Gregory paused to consider.

"I'm not sure, but I expect the Colonel will want to talk with you all about it again." She grimaced, but admitted to his logic in her head. Knowing Colonel Mace, he'd probably suggest something like surrounding the apartment building that John and Ron apparently shared with soldiers.

"Might as well get it over with then," she grumbled, almost resigned, and went to fetch Rory. Once everyone had gathered, the Colonel began.

"Now, as Captain Harkness has pointed out, removing the Doctor or stationing a manned guard around him at this point is inadvisable, due to the complications arising from Ms. Noble. If we are to simply leave him, however, we will need to do some reconnaissance. The records from the hospital merely give his address; we need to ascertain whether he will be safe in his current environment."

Amy couldn't keep the frown from her face, thinking of some UNIT soldiers following John Smith around for a day and taking notes. They always talked about him as if he were some child…or an animal. Something made of glass. She wondered if that was part of the reason why the Doctor stayed away from the organization.

"I'll go," River suddenly spoke up, and Amy felt her jaw drop. Her daughter volunteering to go and observe the man who was no longer hers? What on Earth was she thinking?

"River—"

"I won't follow him around, in fact if you don't mind I'd prefer to avoid him altogether," the professor admitted. "But I will see to the area. It is my right to see to his safety," she finished with a steely tone, one that made monsters and villainous beings and Stormcage guards cower in fear.

"Then I'll take care of the other part," Amy decided, meeting her daughter's eyes and nodding. "That'll work, yeah? Don't want to draw attention to ourselves, and no offense, but River and I know how to act normally in public." Jack chuckled, and even Mickey smirked at this.

"It could work," Martha reasoned, "and the smaller the team, the better, because it allows for mobilization."

"Yes, Dr. Jones," the UNIT officer conceded, and the female doctor fell silent, winking at Amy.

"I could go, too," Rory offered, but Amy rolled her eyes.

"No way, stupid face, I think he'd be a little creeped out if Rory the Friendly Intern started following him around." The Friendly Intern had been an interesting, if not amusing step back from the Last Centurion. She still preferred the original, though. Rory nodded reluctantly. "We could take Gregory," she suggested.

"Who?" The Colonel asked, nonplussed, and Amy shook her head. Soldiers.

"The Greyhound you placed in charge of guarding the TARDIS, Colonel," River explained. "It's a good set-up, and that way you'd have one of your own men on the scene."

They could tell the man was slowly warming to the idea. "It's a…reasonable plan."

Amy jumped up from her chair. "Great!" She said in satisfaction, "I'll go let him know." She strode from the room and out of the trailer. "Gregory!"

The Greyhound, as was his title apparently, looked up from his communicator. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You might want to prepare yourself. Cause you're going to meet the Doctor."

His eyes lit up in interest.

OoO

He stood, stretching his arms over his head despite the little twinges of almost pain, and breathed in the open air. Maybe it wasn't fresh, but it was outside, and thank goodness for that because he thought he was going to go spare sitting in that hospital one more day.

"Careful," Donna chided, "Or you're going to get those skinny ribs of yours all bent out of shape again." She'd come to see him off, though he knew it wouldn't be the last he'd hear from her.

John Smith and Donna Noble had, to put it simply, connected. In a way he'd never experienced. No, he was seeing hearts or stars in his eyes, it was just…she understood. She'd listened as he spoke of all his strange thoughts and ideas and actions- all of which seemed to be occurring with greater frequency. In return he'd listened to hers.

"It's like, we're both just drifting," Donna had said one afternoon when she'd visited. She'd done so nearly every day and he couldn't have been more grateful. "And sometimes it just seems so helpless—there's so much going on out there! I mean, what am I supposed to do? I'm nobody."

"Oh, come now, Donna, you're not nobody," John had disagreed. "You're the best temp in Chiswick, remember?" She'd smiled with him, then, but he'd known it wasn't enough to convince her. "Well if you're nobody, then I'm less than nobody."

She'd scoffed in disbelief. "You can't be less than nobody," Donna had argued, in that tone that told him he was being her stupid, skinny Lost Boy again. "And anyway, you saved my life. That's pretty important."

He'd smirked- she'd fallen for it. "But it's only important _because_ I saved _you_. _You're_ important." He'd sat, smug with success, as she had opened and shut her mouth several times, trying to think of some way to dispute it.

"Well isn't that _wizard_," She'd finally given up, and he'd laughed with her.

Now, though, he looked at her solemnly. He was going to miss Donna Noble so very much. "You'll see me again," he promised.

"Of course," she confirmed. "You still have to come to dinner sometime." He smiled at that. It slowly dropped off his face as he watched Ron and Molly pull up in the car. He was glad to see his friends…but it also meant goodbye.

And he was so very tired of saying those.

Shaking his head to rid it of the errant thought, he spotted someone familiar walking out of the hospital building. "Rory the Friendly Intern!" He greeted, if only to delay getting in the vehicle. Rory started, as he always seemed to do when John addressed him, but came over.

"So, you're leaving now?"

"Yes, I'm all better," he stated, but wilted slightly under both Donna and Rory's doubtful looks. "Mostly better," he amended. "Fine, fine, I'm on the path to mending, but I will be better soon!" This answer seemed to satisfy them, and both let up on their serious stares.

"Well, just- be careful," Rory told him, and John smiled again. Rory the Friendly Intern was going to make a great doctor someday, he could just tell.

"Do you have any cousins, Rory?" The question tumbled from his mouth, and he probably looked as perplexed as Donna at the moment. Rory blinked a couple times, but recovered.

"Um, yes. Quite a few. Why?"

"No reason," he waved a hand dismissively. "Stupid question- of course you have cousins, you all do. I don't. I don't even have an aunt." He smiled brightly while all the while running circles in his mind trying to find whatever loose wire in there was causing him to say all this.

"Oi, if you really want Gramps to adopt you that bad, I'll ask," Donna remarked with a hand on her hip. "No need to harass the bloody intern."

"Yes, you're quite right. Rory, Amy, later—"

"_Who_?" Donna demanded.

"_Donna_," he corrected with almost a growl at himself. Rory seemed to have gone into catatonic shock as he simply gaped and stammered out little noises. "Donna Noble, important Donna Noble—the most important woman of all creation!"

"Oi, watch it, Lost Boy!"

He smiled before enveloping her in a hug she readily returned, then turned and patted Rory on the shoulder- partly in farewell, partly to test if he was still alive. John then walked to the car, opened the door to the backseat, and slid in. Ron waited for him to fasten the seatbelt, and drove off, John waving out the window at Donna and trying to ignore Rory's very worried expression.

OoO

They'd waited a whole week for John Smith to settle in and pick up his usual routine. If they were to get an accurate picture of how he lived and whether it was dangerous or not, then they needed to know where he went and what sort of people he saw.

To River Song, it had simply been a week of exponentially growing nervousness. She'd nearly taken back the offer as soon as she had voiced it, simply because she knew what an absolutely foolish idea it was. She could barely keep going as it was now, and yet she apparently wanted to make it worse for herself.

If she were to diagnose herself, River would say she was suffering from the biggest case of survivor's guilt she had ever seen—aside from the Doctor himself. And perhaps therein lay the crux of the matter. He hadn't been able to stand the thought of living without her; what made him think _she_ could possibly do it? Her husband always put too much stock in her abilities- he believed all his friends capable of only the best. And perhaps for most, that was a correct assumption.

But River Song—born from the wreckage of Melody Pond—was warped and broken and lonely like him.

Truthfully, she was grateful to be alive. She hadn't wanted to die in the Library. But she'd wanted him to die even less.

Her parents, Rory Williams and Amy Pond, were all that was keeping her going. They were her world, now that he'd left it. She doubted she'd ever return to the university- being away from them for that long would probably make the temptation too great…

As it was, she'd noticed immediately her father's troubled expression when he'd come home from the hospital the day the Doctor left it. He had waved off their concerns, so patiently she'd waited to corner him alone.

"Dad, what's really bothering you?" They'd had a stare-off, which he eventually crumbled under. Her intense gaze was something many claimed she inherited from her mother, but she personally believed it was a mix of both her parents- and that's what made it so deadly.

"It's probably nothing," he'd led in, "but when he said he'd be a shadow of himself, that's really what he meant, wasn't it? Sort of himself, but not really?"

She'd tried not to sigh in disappointment. It appeared as though the departure of John Smith from the Royal Hope had merely managed to pierce her father in his only weak point—his very human heart. "Yes," she told him simply. "He looks the same, and sounds the same, and might even seem so very close to the real thing for just a moment. But it's not him, dad."

He had looked down then, equally as discouraged. "Right. I knew that. I just- well, it's good we had this talk. Didn't want to get Amy's hopes up or anything."

"No, we certainly don't want to do that," she murmured in agreement. Her mother was rather fragile when it came to her imaginary friend. But her father wasn't immune either. As it was, he had pulled her into a tight embrace which she returned in equal measure.

Now, she, her mother, and the soldier Amy had recommended had been dropped off by a UNIT jeep. River focused, clearing her mind of all the thoughts and tangled emotions that came from them like so many times before. She had a job to do.

"Right, mother, I'm going to go see to the marketplace or whatever type of shops they have around here," she informed the Scottish woman. "Warn me if he heads in that direction. Your earpieces are working?"

"Yes, River, we tested it," Amy replied, her slight irritation quite clear.

"Yes, ma'am" the soldier replied, snapping a salute which looked quite ridiculous in civilian clothes.

"You're undercover, soldier," she scolded, and he nodded to show he understood.

"Alright, come on Gregory," Amy grinned, obviously happy to be doing something even remotely adventurous again. She ruffled the taller man's hair. "You can pretend to be my son or something."

"Ma'am, I think I'm too old for that to work," he objected, but Amy merely smirked.

"Hasn't stopped me before," she retorted, turning to River whose lips quirked up despite herself. Her mother hugged her a moment before stepping away, pulling Gregory across the street to wait for John Smith to emerge from his apartment building. River took a steadying breath, and then started on her way.

As she made her meticulous observations, River noted that this piece of England located just outside the city of London proper was quite the peaceful place. She could only be thankful that of all the places he could have jumped out of the TARDIS into, he'd picked this one. She also realized the irony that such a dull, mundane setting would drive the Doctor madder than he already was, were he actually experiencing it.

Entering the grocers, the butchers, the hardware store, all the while carefully taking it in with her eyes, but allowing her thoughts free reign, she wondered at this mad, terrible situation. It was comical, really, how much she had thought she'd been suffering with their 'timey-wimey' relationship. This, _this_, was pure torture!

OoO

John came down the stairs of his apartment complex with Molly and Ron right behind him. Molly had come over to eat breakfast with them, since she and John were both starting their shifts at the library at the same time. It was his first day back on the job and he was quite relieved to be doing something for a change. Ron himself was heading to work at the hardware store.

"You're sure you'll be ok, Johnny?" Molly asked, and he sighed, but smiled to reassure her.

"Yes, I'll be fine. You're going to be right there, Molly, and Ron will be just down the street a ways, so no problems. It barely even hurts anymore—woah!" He broke off as he nearly tripped over something- someone sitting on the front stairs. Molly gave a little shriek as he wavered, pin-wheeling his arms in a rather ludicrous fashion until the person leapt up and steadied him. "Sorry," he apologized with a grin, "didn't see you—Aaron!"

It was his first time seeing the boy since he had left for London those few weeks ago. And the red-haired teenager was looking worse for wear.

"Listen," Aaron began, wringing his hands. "Can we talk? I just—"

"Johnny, we're going to be late," Molly interrupted, which was abnormally rude for her especially as she practically glared at Aaron.

"Molly," he said, practically chastising, which was a rather new mood for him. Usually he deferred to her, as he had learned to do so from observing Ron in the early days of their friendship. She did look suitably regretting of her actions, though, so he supposed it had worked. "If Aaron was good enough to wait out here for me, then I should listen to what he has to say. You and Ron go ahead- I'll catch you up."

She didn't seem to like that idea, but eventually let Ron lead her away. John meanwhile ran a hand through his hair, astounded by her unusual behavior. "Why in the universe was she being so unpleasant?" He muttered out loud.

"She's mad at me, I expect," Aaron answered, and he suddenly realized not once had the boy met his eyes. Something told him this was going to take a while.

"Do you mind if I sit down? No?" He did so, noting the ginger boy's rather uncharacteristic silence. Usually he had a reply for everything. "Sitting's better for me these days," he attempted, trying to get a reaction. The only discernible change he could see in the boy was an awkward shifting of weight from foot to foot. Nerves, quite obvious. But about what? He was sitting on the steps and Aaron was standing before him with his eyes downcast…like a child before an irate parent…like Evan and the library fine. He somehow doubted ice cream would fix it if the teenager started crying.

"Out with it, Wood," he encouraged.

"It was my fault, I'm sorry!" Aaron suddenly burst out, then fell silent, looking quite upset and tense, as though waiting for something. Waiting for…

Ah. The pieces fell into place. Aaron Wood thought that he blamed him for the accident. He couldn't have that. "Aaron, that pipe was a freak accident; nothing you did or didn't do would have prevented it—"

"No, but you wouldn't have even been there if I hadn't made you go. All I cared about was my stupid project. If I hadn't been such a bossy—"

"Aaron," he interrupted gently. "Sit, please." John patted the spot on the steps next to him, and slightly hesitant, Aaron did as asked. "Think about it. You couldn't have known that that pipe was going to be there, or that I was going to run right into it, could you?" The boy shook his head. "And think of Donna—the woman I saved—she likely would have died if I hadn't been there. If anything, you helped save a life," he told the boy with a proud smile. "You, Aaron Wood, by being bossy and caring about a stupid, practically impossible project- you saved an innocent woman."

Aaron finally managed to look at his face properly, and whatever he saw made him smile back, too. "Yeah, I guess I did," he admitted slowly, quietly. John's proud smile turned into an all-out grin.

"Of course you did, because you're extraordinary. And anyway, I was only there because I didn't listen to your instructions and sort-of wandered off, so getting hurt was my own fault."

The boy actually managed a snort then, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's it, see?" He pointed out enthusiastically, jumping up from the steps. "There's an important rule to be gained from this, Aaron: Don't wander off. Now come along, Wood, we've got research to do."

His eyes alight with newfound inspiration, Aaron stood and began the walk to the library with him. "And don't worry about Molly," John reassured him. "She'll come round. She's just very concerned for me."

Aaron scoffed. "I'd say 'very' is an understatement."

"Yes, well," John scratched, embarrassed, at his cheek, "recently I've begun to…notice. Ehm, yes. But! I'm working on it. You see, I like Molly very much-" he paused, momentarily blinded—distracted—by the very ginger hair of a woman they passed on the crosswalk. His eyes followed her across the street as they travelled in opposite directions, and she joined a young man he hadn't noticed during the wait for the light to change. He shook his head as his feet touched once again on sidewalk. "But as a friend. One day, Aaron, you will understand."

"Yeah, I'm not five," the boy reminded him.

"Yes, you're quite right. And that reminds me- Aaron, I'm sorry. I was supposed to be your representative in London for that meeting and I failed you."

"Don't worry about it, I'm not mad or anything," he waved off, obviously surprised at being apologized to.

"Well, I'm not sure if there's any chance of him wanting to meet up anymore, but—"

"Actually, when I emailed him to explain, he said not to worry about it. He already knew," Aaron told him, and John's eyebrows raised. "I know, right? I can't see how—I never gave him your name, and there's loads of John Smiths out there, but that's what he said. Where are you going?" He asked the last question as John ducked into an alley.

"Short cut," was his short answer. They had been approaching the street where he'd met Annemarie, and for some reason that made him nervous. But then he'd remembered…it was a straight shot to the library from here.

"Wow," Aaron said as they emerged only a couple minutes later in front of the building. "How'd you know that?"

"No idea," he shrugged. "Least we won't be too late. That ought to cheer Molly up."

Aaron only looked at him. "You know, Molly's a pretty girl," he noted, and John nodded in agreement. "If you only like her as a friend, what kind of woman are you looking for?"

He stopped, mouth half-open as if to say something, but his brain had apparently shut off. "No idea," he simply replied again. "but someone amazing."

OoO

"River! _River_!" Her mother hissed into the communicator, and she stopped walking down the street to listen.

"Yes, mum?"

"We, er, we lost him," Amy muttered, and she thought her heart stopped for a moment.

"Sorry?"

"He was on his way somewhere with some kid, and then there were a lot of people. I thought he turned onto the main road, but—"

"Right," she cut her off, looking about wilding before turning right and heading up a set of stairs into the nearest public building she could find. "Just keep looking, he can't get too far on foot. Let me know—"

"When we find him," her mother finished. "Hang on, I think Gregory found another way he could have taken. We'll keep in touch!"

She sighed tiredly, leaning against a bookshelf—and then properly took in her surroundings. River couldn't help the small shudder that passed through her; this was her first time in a library since she'd been to _the_ Library.

There was nothing for it but to wait for her mother to give the all-clear again. She could survive a little bit of time in something that now resembled her own personal Hell—rather than facing real Hell if she bumped into John Smith on the street.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" A quiet, sweet voice asked, and she turned to see a young, pretty thing with brown hair and eyes and an innocent expression that was colliding painfully with Miss Evangelista's vacant visage in her mind.

"No dear," she smiled kindly, "I was just browsing."

"Anything of particular interest?"

She sighed, but decided to say something to appease the girl. "Well, let's see. I'm an archeologist," she told her truthfully, and the young librarian stopped to consider.

"Hm…I think then you want to look in—hang on, I'll get Johnny just to be sure. He knows the shelves better than anyone." The look in the girl's eyes was something of a fond admiration, and all too late River noticed the name on her tag. _Molly_.

Her father had mentioned overhearing John Smith and his two friends talking about work…Molly and John worked at the same place.

Apparently they both worked in a library.

She wanted to tell the girl no, not to bother, but the words died in her throat as Molly happily skipped away to get her friend. To get her _crush_.

"Please, please let him be busy," River whispered fervently, but she heard approaching footfalls, one pair that she could pick out from any other.

"Hello!" Said a voice, a voice so dear to her, and with her eyes closed she could almost imagine it _was_ him. The Doctor. But if that were the case, it wouldn't be _her_ Doctor. The Doctor that would draw right up to her and greet her with that same voice, but with words that sent shivers down her spine: "Hi honey, I'm home."

This wasn't _her_ Doctor. So, early days for him. How many times had she done this before?

She opened her eyes to find John Smith staring quite obviously at her, his mouth still paused as if mid-speech. At her raised eyebrow, however, he snapped his mouth shut, swallowing rather nervously as a familiar shade of pink colored his cheeks.

"Er- hi," he tried again, a bit calmer, perhaps cooler. "I'm John Smith."

She smirked. "Hello, Sweetie." The words tumbled from her lips- she simply couldn't stop herself. Despite how much it would hurt once it was over, here in the now she could only see that it was him and her in a library—and how brilliantly awful was it that he'd become a librarian?

And he was still just as fun to wind up.

Her case in point being that his face had gone an even deeper shade of red as he stammered incoherently for a few moments. Molly—his companion, she rationalized in her mind for the here-and-now—simply looked shocked, her head turning back and forth between the two of them.

"Well, I mean to say- that is," he was wrapping up, finally mastering real phrases, "Molly- Molly here said that, ehm, that you needed some help?" She made a show of walking forward and studying him. Under her eyes, he shifted and scratched at his cheek, a nervous habit that appeared to have carried over.

"Yes, I think you can help me. You seem quite capable," she drawled, enjoying the affect the open-ended statement had on both of the librarians. He was growing increasingly flustered by the minute—too easy, really—and his friend bristled.

"She said she was an archeologist," Molly interrupted, unfortunately diverting John's attention enough that he managed to recover.

"An archeologist!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together once. "Right this way, Miss…?"

She couldn't help the small little flip-flop her insides seemed to do. Molly had called her ma'am. He had called her Miss.

"It's Professor," she corrected. "Professor River Song."

"A professor as well? Impressive," he remarked and she couldn't help but beam at this not-him's praise.

"That's what archeologists do when they retire, I suppose," Molly interjected once more, and John blinked once or twice as though he'd forgotten there was a third person there. She found it somewhat gratifying to know that even with all his memories gone he was still drawn to her. Just as she was to this stranger wearing his face.

"Oh no," she contradicted Molly with a smug grin. "Teaching is just what I do on my breaks between expeditions."

John had stopped in front of some shelving and gestured with one hand. "Well, here we are."

"Thank you, Sweetie," she replied, enjoying the blush that stained his cheeks once more. Molly huffed and tapped her foot as she browsed the shelves.

"Johnny, I think she can find her way back," the girl finally said.

"Sorry?" John said with a start, glancing about to find his friend.

"We need to get back to the desk," she reminded him, and he looked quite abashed. River could not say she was taking much of a liking to Molly Pines. Aside from the obvious, she was quite the downer.

"You're right, Molly, of course." He took a few steps away with the girl, and then turned back to her. "If you, er, need anything, just- um, give a yell."

"Oh, you'll hear me," she responded with a rather saucy wink, which set him stammering once again before dashing away, bumping into a couple of the shelves judging by the various _thuds_ she heard. But as soon as he and Molly left, she sagged against the shelf.

What was she doing? She'd just told her father a week ago not to get his hopes up, and here she was flirting like everything was fine. But when she couldn't use her blaster, words- and the games she played with them, were River's greatest weapon.

She'd had two choices; act like nothing was wrong, or quite literally burst into tears.

Because this was truly it. She could never just observe him quietly from the street just to see how he was doing, he'd notice. So this had to be a real and proper goodbye. She could save the tears. She had so many times before this.

"River?" She heard in her ear, and she released a shaky breath. Amy.

"Yes, mum?" She asked, surprised once again by the steadiness of her own voice. She'd been trained to well for this.

"We think we tracked him to the library. We're not sure, but we think he's inside. So it should be safe, yeah?"

She almost laughed, but held it in. "Yes. Stay where you are, I'll meet you in just a minute." Collecting herself, River stood and walked gracefully back through the front, passing by the desk. Almost immediately upon coming into view, John's eyes locked on her.

"Afraid I have to dash," she informed them honestly, deciding to ignore the relieved look on Molly's face. "But thank you for the help." She smiled at the girl…and then blew him a kiss.

Leaving him sitting there absolutely stunned speechless—and wasn't that the best way, to one-up him at the last?—River glided out the front doors and down the steps, watching Amy spot her and then her face break into an expression of horror as comprehension dawned.

"Oh, River," her mother started, but she merely shook her head.

"Let's go."

"Here's our ride," Gregory said quietly as the jeep rolled up. She said no more all the way back, and once they arrived, she locked herself in the TARDIS. Just the two of them, grieving together over the man they'd loved and lost.

**So…I'm sorry that was so long. And…I'm sorry that it kind of ended all depressed-like. But I felt that to not include some angst from River's perspective would be to make this story incomplete in some way. Well, now that UNIT's seen to John Smith's safety, they're going to back off. But is that really a good thing? Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ahhh, this story just plagues my thoughts almost the entire day! I just have to keep writing, I guess. Thanks for the reviews, and even suggestions! I love suggestions, I try to incorporate what I can, although I mostly have the story mapped out. At any rate, thanks!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Molly tried not to notice how Johnny was still staring at the door, but it was getting to her. Honestly, the nerve of that woman! It was practically indecent, openly harassing him in such a way. And yet Johnny had been struck speechless, stammering and blushing like she'd never seen him do.

He never did that around her…

Molly gave a sad—and quite loud—sigh, glancing her friend's way to see if he'd noticed. He hadn't. John Smith was absently fiddling with a pen in his hands, seemingly in deep thought yet still looking up at the front door occasionally.

"Ok," she muttered under her breath, trying not to let the hurt show through. Molly sighed again, more quietly, and went to the side of the building to retrieve any books people had returned during the day. Feeling around in the slot, she couldn't help but to dwell on it more.

He was one of her best friends along with Ron, and she cared about him so much. Her Johnny, who was nice and funny and always with her. But ever since that stupid video on the DVD, he'd been growing more and more distant. And it frightened her sometimes, but she had no idea what to do.

So she just clung to him harder and more desperately as that Aaron Wood told him more and more fantastical stories about some strange mad man and monsters. But he didn't listen! He was so curious and eager to learn—it was a moth to flame, she could see that from the start. And yet he dug deeper and deeper, burying himself in it. Until it had gotten to the point where John Smith seemed to almost disappear, engulfed by the mystery of the nameless nutter he and a teenager were chasing after.

Though she'd been horrified upon learning of the accident, she couldn't help to think that maybe some time in a hospital away from Aaron and his fictions might do him some good. But instead, she'd had to watch him and Donna Noble talking together, confiding in each other. She couldn't help but feel jealous. Molly had been his first friend, and yet Donna Noble was the one he seemed to have some kind of magnetic draw to as he poured his secret thoughts out to the redhead. She called him her Lost Boy. He wasn't lost! He had her. And that had been enough before.

But Johnny had never truly shown any _interest_ in anyone, much less her. So why of all people was it the one other woman in the world who showed any back? If only she'd found the books on archeology by herself.

Not coming across any books, Molly went to straighten up, but found she couldn't. She was _stuck_. Not like her arm was too far in, but like something was molding over her fingers.

"What?" She gasped in disbelief, struggling to tug herself free of the substance. But then she felt it—something was pulling back. "Oh my goodness," she breathed as the whole book return slot opened wide like a mouth. She was yanked forward, right off her feet into the darkness, only able to give a small cry of terror before being swallowed up whole.

OoO

"Hey mate, how was work?" John shook his head a moment and looked up to find Ron.

"Oh," he said. "Work was, ehm…good. Yes." He hadn't actually been paying much attention to work, to be perfectly truthful. All he'd been able to think of was that sultry smirk and captivating curls and velvet-smooth voice and he didn't know why. What was wrong with him?

Ron nodded, not seeming to notice his inner turmoil, and then glanced around expectantly.

"Well, where's Molly? Aren't you both done now?"

He gave a start, glancing at his watch to confirm Ron's words. Normally Molly would have been reminding him of the time, but she hadn't said anything in…quite a while. "No idea," he said honestly. "I haven't seen her for- a bit."

"How long ago?" Ron asked the innocent question, but John scratched at his cheek as he turned this way and that, as though that would make their friend magically appear.

"A few hours."

"A few _hours_?" His flat mate repeated. "John- that's not normal- she must've—oh my God. Molly!" The tall man went running through the shelves, heedless of the rules against loudness and running in the building. "_Molly_!"

John, for his part, smacked himself on the forehead with his pen, moving around the desk to look as well. Even as a cold fear had suddenly closed its fingers around his heart, telling him it was hopeless. How could he have been so stupid?

The two friends met in the middle. Ron was breathing hard, both from the activity and from panic. "She's not here. John, she's not here!"

"I know, Ron, but we need to stay—"

"To Hell with staying calm!" His friend roared, suddenly looming over him in righteous fury. "She's disappeared and you didn't even notice! How could you not notice?!"

"I know, I know, and believe me, Ron, I am so sorry." He leaned despondently against a bookshelf. His friend was right. This shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have let it happen. Molly could be anywhere, Molly could be—all his fault. "Oh, I'm such a stupid, thick man. Really thick. But we are going to find her," he declared, mustering the strength to push himself into a standing position. "That's a promise, Ron. But we have to do this together, ok?"

He watched his sandy-haired friend still glowering at him for a moment, before the man finally deflated. "I just want her back," he confessed, looking lost and so very scared. John reached out a hand and tentatively set it on Ron's shoulder. He waited for his friend to look at him before speaking.

"I know. So do I. Now, come on!"

OoO

UNIT was gone. Colonel Mace, Gregory, Martha and Mickey, and even Jack had left. They'd spoken solemn goodbyes, not shared by River who was still holing herself up in the TARDIS. It had been three days now, and nothing Amy or Rory said could seem to coax her out. That fateful meeting she had had in the library with John Smith seemed to have been the last straw.

To say that Amy was worried was an understatement. She paced frantically about the house, not capable of sitting still for too long, and barely even registered her husband's entreaties to relax. Relax? How could she relax when everything was in ruins? Nothing was going right.

He'd said that they could make it through this. That everything would be alright. But he'd lied. Her Raggedy Doctor had lied to her. Maybe even to himself.

Because he never did see it, did he? How important- _so important_ –he was. To all of them. He saw himself as intruding upon something so wonderful, and as being something not to be missed if he went missing.

But that wasn't what a family was. They needed him, just as much as he'd needed them. And he couldn't see it, couldn't understand that very basic fact. What was the point of being an eleven-hundred-something Time Lord if you were so bloody stupid about one of the most important things?

Rory rather rudely interrupted her thoughts. "Amy! Amy, look at the news!"

"What?" She exclaimed, almost terrified to see what had captivated her husband's attention so. Had John Smith gotten himself killed this time? But as Amy entered the sitting room, she didn't see anything remotely like that. "_What_?" She repeated, this time completely incredulous.

"We are reporting to you live as a strange beam of energy carves into the Sahara Desert," the newscaster began, voicing over the image of—that was definitely a laser, moving across Earth. "The origin is not certain. Already the world leaders and their representatives are issuing stories- but the simple fact is: This is not from our world."

Amy and Rory sat on the couch, numb as they watched the laser complete its task and then wink out of existence, presumably shut off.

"We took to the skies to attempt to decipher what was obviously a message to the human race. But, as you can see in the image taken from the helicopter, it is in a language unknown to mankind. Our planet has been contacted by alien life."

But that wasn't what Amy saw. Amy did not see incomprehensible symbols in some strange, other-worldy script. She saw one sentence, blazed right into the Earth.

_YOUR COMPANION IS OURS, DOCTOR_.

She and Rory stared at each other, completely aghast and filled with terror.

"What- what does that mean, exactly?" Rory questioned, before they bolted as one to the TARDIS.

"River! Please, River open up! I know you're upset but something's happened. These aliens are saying they've got one of the Doctor's companions or something and—" The door was flung open and their daughter stared in astonishment at them.

"What are you talking about?"

Soon all three were standing around the control panel, River examining the news footage on the monitor, and the two Ponds attempting to wait patiently.

"Do you think this is something that happened to him in the past—like, some other version of him is flying around out there in his own TARDIS or- I don't know," Rory puzzled aloud, and Amy struggled just as much to try and understand.

"No," said River simply. "They wouldn't need to have done that- he'd already know." She looked at them both in turn. "They're trying to contact John Smith."

"Who is?" She demanded in frustration.

"Well, from the laser technology I would say Sontaran…but taking a hostage isn't their kind of strategy."

"But, why are they going after John Smith? He isn't the Doctor anymore—he hasn't even got companions!" Rory pointed out as River pulled levers and pushed buttons. Amy realized their daughter was going to put them in flight.

"Doesn't matter. He was him, he still looks like him, and they still want revenge," was the tense reply.

"River, where are we going?" Amy asked.

"To get to him before they do."

OoO

It had been three days. Three long, exhausting, miserable days with no sign of her. Ron barely talked to him anymore, and only to coordinate plans to extend their search. Now, he and Ron walked up and down the streets of London in silence. It was a very slim chance they would find Molly just hanging about here, but they had to at least look.

They'd had all the neighbors asking around, but that had yielded nothing. Aaron had been helping as well, but unfortunately had an appointment or some such that morning and so did not accompany them. Today, however, they were meeting up with—

Oh Donna, what a sight for his weary eyes!

"No luck yet?" She asked upon walking up to them, and both men shook their heads in dismay. "Don't worry, I've been spreading it around the place. Gramps is going to organize some of his friends as well—says it's worked before." She paused, taking in his appearance. "How are you holding up?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied dismissively, but she frowned at him.

"Course it matters! How are you supposed to look for her if you keep running all the 'what-ifs' in your head? If she's missing, she's missing. Worrying about all that and feeling sorry for yourselves isn't going to change that. Got it?" She lectured, including both him and Ron in her scolding. They each nodded, and John thought he felt the almost palpable tension dissipating slightly.

They went street by street as systematically as they could. John was turning his head this way and that, constantly doubling back at the sight of anything remotely unusual or out of place, just in case it had the smallest chance of leading them back to Molly.

"He doesn't even know what he's doing," he heard Ron muttering, rather disgruntled. "None of us do."

"Oi," Donna poked the taller man. "He may be weird, and this may seem hopeless. But he'll find her. I trust him."

"Trying to think, Donna," he called without facing her.

"What, no thank you?" Donna demanded, and he was sure she had a hand on her hip.

"Fine, thank you—but that's not important. We've got to stay focused, we've got to figure out- got to—my mind is too slow!"

"What's that even mean?" Ron asked, baffled.

"Oh I don't know, I've been slowing down, I'm just so old. Stupid, stupid—"

"Old? _Old_? If you're old, what am I?"

He turned to see a rather irate Donna Noble and gulped.

"Brilliant, that's what you are, absolutely brilliant," he said, and she scoffed and looked away. Oh sure, he'd been deflecting, but he'd meant it! Why did she never believe him?

"You were saying we've got to do something? _Molly_," Ron prompted, and he blinked.

"Yes, thank you Ron! But I wasn't talking about Molly."

"And why not?" His friend ground out.

"Because we've got to figure out where all the people have gone." They stared blankly at him and he gave an impatient huff. "Come on!" He cried, spreading his arms wide and spinning around in a circle to encompass the whole area. "Whole city of London and barely anyone on the street. Why?"

Ron shrugged helplessly, but Donna's eyebrows were knitted together in concentration. "Well, mum was saying there was something on the telly, and one of my neighbors was talking about a light show in Africa—but I mean, come on, how weird is that? I expect everybody's inside watching it, though. But it's probably nothing, just another joke some group of kids are playing like all those Christmases."

"What do you mean? What happened on Christmas?" He was staring at her in confusion.

"Well a few years ago, that 'alien face' on the telly? All those people on the roof? You don't remember any of that, either?" She asked. "Not even hearing about it?"

"No," he murmured, making an about face and gazing at the near-empty street. "No, I was- asleep."

"Asleep?"

"What's it matter?" Ron burst out, finally fed up with what he deemed a useless conversation. "Talking about all those Christmas hoaxes isn't going to find Molly!"

"No, you're right," John admitted, and turned to see the other man give a satisfied nod. "That's all in the past. We need to find out more about _this_ hoax."

"Why?" Both his friends asked.

"Think about it, you two, every story has a grain of truth to it. Molly disappears and now there're funny lights in Africa!" He waited eagerly for them to show they understood, and couldn't keep the disappointment from his face when he realized they didn't.

"What do they have to do with each other?" Ron asked.

"No idea. But they're connected." He said with certainty, beginning to walk briskly down the street again.

"How? What's your reason? You've got to have a reason," Donna insisted, hurrying to catch up. Ron was lagging behind somewhat.

"Don't have one," he said dismissively.

"Then how can you be sure?" Ron yelled exasperated.

"Well—how about this? It's noon, right now, yes? We can agree on that?" He stopped, turning to face Donna and wait for the other male to catch them up.

"Yes," the two chorused, obviously not in the mood for seemingly inane questions.

"And it's supposed to be sunny out today?"

"Yes—look will you just be serious? What is _wrong_ with you, lately?" Ron had caught up very much and was now glaring at him. "Molly- Molly was right, you're not yourself! You're not some 'Lost Boy'—"

"Oi!" Donna interjected, obviously insulted by his sarcastic use of the name she'd given John, but he paid no heed.

"You're not even _you_!" Ron opened and closed his mouth a couple times, seeming to struggle with the words. "I've lost Molly now, but I think we both lost you way before that. I look at you sometimes, and I don't even see my own flat mate. I mean—just- Who are you?"

He stared at the sandy-haired man in silence, for some reason no answer forthcoming. John wanted to reassure his obviously distressed friend, tell him exactly who he was- but had he ever even known? What kind of a man could he be with only a few months worth of memory?

And anyway, he'd promised he'd find Molly, and that was much more important than him.

"Ron, Donna, listen to me…if it's high noon and sunny- Why is it dark?"

All three tilted their heads up to the sky and simply gaped in open-mouth wonder at what they saw.

"Is that…?" Donna started.

"Yes," he answered. "I think it's a spaceship. And it's directly over us."

"So," Ron spoke quietly, pausing to swallow. "That's why you think they're connected."

"Yes, Ron," was the simple response. "That's exactly why."

OoO

Aaron looked both ways on the sparsely populated sidewalk before crossing the street. He paused a moment, again taking in his surroundings before ducking into the little café. It was weird, he felt like he was sneaking around.

Well, he should at least be honest with himself. He was sneaking around. Aaron had told John yesterday that he had an appointment and wouldn't be able to accompany him on his trip to London. What he hadn't told the man was that his appointment was in London, to meet with the stranger about those pictures at last.

And why hadn't he told John? Because the stranger had told him not to. Yeah, it was pretty dodgy sounding, but what was a bloke going to try in a public café? And anyway Aaron wanted answers.

How had his online contact known who was supposed to collect the photos in the first place. How did this man know John Smith? And why didn't he want John Smith to know he knew him?

He hadn't given the contact any information about John beforehand, but the man had emailed that terrible day of the accident to say that he was sorry to hear about Aaron's friend and that he was perfectly willing to meet up some other day. And 'best not to tell our friend Mr. Smith'. Those had been the exact words.

Aaron had to admit part of the reason he'd convinced himself to go through with this suspicious-sounding rendezvous was that that one sentence had piqued his interest. The red-headed teen had a taste for anything odd, anything remotely interesting. Otherwise he wouldn't have bothered studying the mysterious Doctor for his research project.

The Doctor, whatever he was, intrigued him, and this meeting had the promise of something exciting and dangerous and new—just like the Doctor's adventures.

So, quashing his guilt for lying to John, Aaron looked about the small establishment before spotting a man in the back. He had nothing with him except a yellowing envelope. He figured that was a good enough place to start.

The man glanced up at his approach, and he took time to observe him. A purely unremarkable bloke with glasses who appeared in his mid-forties perhaps. Not physically powerful, so nothing to worry about there, at least. The only oddity about him was his left arm, which he kept folded in towards his chest.

Aaron took a seat. "Hi," he started quietly, not entirely sure how to begin.

"Afternoon," the man said pleasantly with a smile.

"Er- I think I've been emailing you…about the Doctor?" He tried, resolving to leave if this man had no idea what he was talking about.

But the stranger's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, that is me."

"Good," he replied, feeling somewhat relieved he wasn't just accidentally harassing some strange man in a café. "But first, I want to know—"

"How I knew what had become of your 'errand-man' so to speak," the man interrupted with a knowing look, "and why I asked you not to bring him today."

Aaron nodded expectantly.

The man sighed, removing his glasses to wipe some perceived dust from the lens and replacing them—all without using his left hand. "To put it quite simply, I recognized him- on the news," he admitted, causing Aaron's eyebrows to rise. John didn't know anyone aside from the people in their neighborhood, and now Donna Noble and her family. "I asked you not to bring him, young man," the older male began in a serious tone, "because I do believe what I'm about to show you will be quite alarming—and I'm not sure I'm the right person to tell him."

At last, the envelope was nudged across the table to him, and Aaron slowly pulled out a single photograph. It looked like another image from the underground place, except two men stood drinking tea in front of a tabletop map of Europe.

One he recognized instantly: Winston Churchill, the Prime Minister of England during World War II. So this had been taken in the Cabinet War Room…

The other man did not look too out of place on first glance. He was dressed in a shirt and bowtie- much like the famous leader he was sharing a photograph with. Braces and a jacket of some kind of thicker material, perhaps tweed, completed the look. It was eccentric enough to be the Doctor.

But that floppy, untamed hair…and that face pulled into a grin…

"_**What**_?"

**Uh-oh, Aaron's really done it now! And what's going to happen to John, Ron, and Donna? Ooh, that's fun to say! Anyway! Are the Ponds too late? Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**Also, just want to give a shout-out to the fabulous and far more brilliant than I, Steven Moffat, for his masterful episode Asylum of the Daleks! It was absolutely fantastic, and a great kick off to season 7! Definitely recommend watching it. I won't give any spoilers, but I suppose I should also note that as of now, this story is AU after The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe Christmas Special thing. If you have seen the latest episode, tell me your favorite part in a review! Thanks again!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Still reeling from the awesomeness of Asylum of the Daleks…and super pumped for Dinosaurs on a Spaceship! Looks like a great line-up of guest stars, and Rory's dad! We get to meet Mr. Williams senior, the Doctor's…grandfather-in-law? Haha, that's weird…Anyway, I suppose you all want to read my silly fanfiction in the meantime, so here it is!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Fourteen**

"We're here," River announced, blaster in hand as she charged for the door.

"What, are we in his flat or something?" Amy asked, a little alarmed at the prospect of simply bursting into John Smith's bedroom.

"No, we're in London," was the answer as her daughter nudged the door open and carefully stuck her head out. "Some distance away from him."

"Uh, why?" Rory inquired, taking the stairs down to the front doors. "How's that any good?"

"Because of that," River replied, pointing up at the London sky. Amy joined them hesitantly, apprehensive of what she might see. She was right to be.

A massive ship loomed overhead, casting the city in shadow. The center was mostly spherical in shape, with strange spikes jutting out.

"O…k," Rory started. "That's something…not good. What is that?"

"Is that it?" Amy asked as well, unable to take her eyes of the intimidating thing. "That's the Sontaran ship, yeah?"

"Yes," River breathed. "They'll be tracking any moving vehicle—especially something as rare as the TARDIS. I had to put her down here or we'd be leading them straight to him."

Their daughter stepped out onto the deserted street and they followed. So they had to find John Smith, find him and then…

"River? What are we going to do when we find him? That ship will still be up there, and we don't have him to make it go away," Amy pointed out, Rory nodding along with her words.

"And they said they have a companion of his. Does that mean that there's a person up there with them? What are we going to do about that?" He added.

"Most likely there is. Something has to be done, dad, but I'm not sure—I don't know—"

"And hang on," Amy interrupted, "How are we going to convince John Smith to come with us to safety? And what if—"

"I don't know, mum! I don't know!" River snapped, whirling to face both of her parents, the blaster clenched tightly in one hand at her side. "I'm trying, but- I'm not- I don't come up with plans on the fly. _He did_. And I can try, but—"

Amy and Rory looked down, ashamed of having pressured the woman. Their daughter was brilliant, but she was right; this whole mess barely played to any of their strengths, not without the Doctor there to set them in motion. The man with a plan, with respected things in progress. He always pulled them through.

But this time nothing was certain.

The blonde woman had collected herself, and appeared to be in deep thought. "It doesn't matter how, we just need to locate John Smith and make sure he stays put. There's enough going on as it is without him—and whatever the Sontarans think, he's not the Doctor. He'll get himself killed if they find him."

They nodded in agreement. Whatever was usually expected of the Doctor, they couldn't rely on John Smith to deliver. This would have to be something they undertook alone.

"You two will keep an eye on him while I take the TARDIS up to the ship," River continued, and they stared at her as if she'd gone well and truly mad.

"What for?" Rory asked, dumbfounded.

"To save an innocent life, father," was the calm response. "Once whoever the hostage is is safe within the TARDIS, I'll do what he taught me. I'll give them a choice."

"Between what?" Amy requested, feeling an uneasiness at River's words.

"They can either go back to where they came from," she replied, and seemed incredibly reluctant to tell them the rest. "Or I can take them with me to meet their Maker."

"No!" Rory shouted immediately, and Amy was not far behind.

"You can't! River, you'll die!"

"It's insane, you- you just can't!"

"All that stuff with the Library wouldn't mean anything—River, you're _alive_—"

"And sometimes living is worse!" The professor exclaimed harshly, causing both her parents to flinch. "If this is the life I have to lead from now till I die- then I don't want it. I thought you would understand at least, mum."

Her daughter's eyes pleaded, beseeched her to see _why_, why River Song would ever possibly consider doing this—

And she did. She knew exactly why. Because she hadn't been nearly as strong as River, she hadn't lasted half as long in that terrible dream where she'd only had a best friend with the greatest death wish in the world by her side. Because what was the point of it- any of it- if there wasn't…

"Fine," Amy said quietly, Rory turning to her in shocked horror. She met her daughter's gaze right on, daring her to defy her next words. "But not alone."

"Mum—"

"No, you will listen, River Song, and you will listen good. You are my daughter—our daughter," she looked to Rory who slowly nodded in consent. "And if you think any of this modeling or- or- life will be worth it for us without our own family, then you are wrong. We are in this together, got it?"

Her daughter was blinking wet eyes rapidly. "Thank you," she whispered, and all three moved at once to embrace each other. It could be the last time.

"We're the Ponds," Rory murmured.

When at last they pulled apart, Amy wiped at her eyes and brought a grin to her face. "Come along then, Ponds," she quipped, "We've got a human to find."

"You never know," her husband commented as they ran down streets, "the Sontarans could decide they're bored of destroying planets and go home."

And despite what hung above them and possibly in their future, the Ponds laughed.

OoO

"But- there's no such thing," Ron stammered, eyes wide and locked on the large floating craft. "Space ships- like- like _that_ don't exist!"

"Well someone didn't get the memo, because that _thing_ is a space ship!" Donna barked in reply before pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers in exasperation.

"What's it doing here, then? What's it for?"

"I think it's looking for something," John answered, watching as it slowly moved over the city. "See how it's moving almost in rows. It's searching for something, which means—oh."

"What?" Ron and Donna chorused together, and John glanced at each of them quickly.

"Well, it means that being on the open road perhaps isn't the safest plan," he informed them. They all stood there a moment as the words sunk in.

"Come on, then!" Donna ordered, grabbing them each by the arms and running around the corner, trying to stay ahead of the space craft, down quite a few streets and into the nearest public building. "Oh, all this running," she moaned as they leaned against an unoccupied table. "It's way too hot for this. Bloody hell, I'm roasting."

"I'll buy you a water," John offered as he worked to get his breathing back to normal. He took the opportunity to properly take in their surroundings; a quaint little café with soft music playing over the sound system, not very many patrons, and—"Aaron!"

The boy, sitting at a back table by himself, hunched over something, jumped practically as if he'd been electrocuted. A panicked gaze met John's as the teenager squeaked, "John!"

Hm, he'd thought Aaron had finished with that stage of puberty.

"Aaron, good to see you here! Least we know where everyone is—sorry, Ron, bad subject. Everyone except Molly. That's the somewhat good news." He tried for a reassuring smile, but Ron was looking downcast at the latest reminder of their missing friend, Donna was still gasping for breath, and Aaron was still just staring. Pick of the lot, he had here!

"Unfortunately," he continued as no one else had spoken, "there is now a giant space ship outside scanning the city of London for something."

"Excuse me, young man, but what on Earth are you talking about?" An older woman behind the register asked, quite bemused.

"Oh my God," he heard Aaron's hushed exclamation, "It's really—"

"I'm not talking about anything on Earth—least I don't think," he corrected. "I'm talking about something above the Earth, right now. Go ahead and look for yourselves!" The few patrons, including Aaron rose to gape out the window. He was sure they would have all started talking if the radio hadn't crackled.

Once. Twice. The music died. And then something else happened entirely.

"Citizens of the Planet Earth: This is Srath of the Sontaran battle ship currently above you. But the humans should have no fear- for fear is a disgraceful weakness. There is a reason for which we will call off the impending attack," spoke an accented voice with harsh articulation, and everyone in the café was looking up at the loudspeaker in bafflement. "Your destruction, though we would take great pleasure in it, is not our objective. Today."

"Destruction!" Someone said in alarm and all at once people started talking loudly and over one another.

"What's a Sonteran?"

"Sont_a_ran," Donna corrected in irritation, rubbing one of her temples.

"But aliens don't exist!"

"There's a spaceship, obviously they do!"

"Are these the same ones that did that thing in the Sahara?"

"That was a hoax!"

"Well, that isn't!"

"Shut up, or we're not going to hear what he says next!" Aaron scowled at them all, and the room of adults quieted under his stony face. He gave a satisfied smirk and turned back to the loudspeaker, but John noticed his eyes kept flickering back…to him.

"I am now addressing the human who goes by John Smith."

John froze in surprise, practically feeling Ron, Donna, and Aaron's stares. A giant spaceship above them with hostile intent, but first some aliens wanted to have a chat with _him_?

"We are displeased with you, Mr. Smith."

"What did you do?" Ron demanded almost automatically, but John could only open and close his mouth in speechless shock. He hadn't done anything! Now _all_ the occupants of the café were looking at him, Ron having identified him with his question. Some had expressions of wonder, but most were looking on him with fear or suspicion. He turned nervously to the loudspeaker, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"The Sontarans are aware of your felicity for running from battle," the voice continued, "but to outright hide yourself—even from you—and become a lowly human? It is an outrage! The coward's way out- you were many things, Mr. Smith, but the Sontarans grudgingly admit that cowardly was not one of them. But this was a cowardly act."

"What's he talking about—'become a human'?" Ron asked, and he looked at him helplessly. John was lost under all these accusations and interrogations. How was he to know what they were talking about?

"But we shall do you a service, Mr. Smith. An opportunity to regain your honor before the last. Does whatever lowly place you've retreated to have visual, Mr. Smith?"

John was more preoccupied with something else the alien had said. "The last—what last? What do you mean?"

"Visual?" Ron was asking.

"He means can he see them?" Donna clarified from her spot still leaning her back against the table. "A television, a phone—something with a screen!"

"I- I have a smart phone," a man offered, reaching into his pocket.

"No, but hang on, he said last!" John reminded. "Is no one else concerned by—"

"Oh my God!" The man with the phone gasped, almost dropping the device. Aaron snatched and looked at the screen, giving a gulp.

"You might want to prepare yourself," he warned, passing John the phone.

John stared. It was an alien. A real, proper alien. An alien that looked like a potato! He almost laughed aloud at that comparison, but thought at the last minute that it might not be prudent.

"Our original intent upon learning of your spineless actions on the Library planet—"

"How is restocking shelves spineless?" John exclaimed, almost offended.

"He's not talking about your job- it's a planet!" Donna yelled, before wincing and bringing a hand back up to her head.

"—was to destroy the Earth, thus mercifully ending your pitiful existence." As the potato—Sontaran—spoke, John could only stare in horrified silence. Destroy a whole planet just to get him? What kind of creatures were these? And why did they care so much about him?

"But the Nestenes convinced us of the folly of this plan." He sagged against the wall in some relief. He had no idea what a Nestene was, but they deserved a thank you. "Why resort to such primitive action when we may kill you ourselves?"

"Oh," he said, the fear returning again in full force. Forget that about the Nestenes.

"Kill you!" Ron gave a terrified shout. "What, are they going to come down here and- and shoot you?"

"You will come to us," Srath contradicted, and John actually gave a disbelieving snort.

"Oh yeah, why would I do that?" He asked aloud, even though the alien would not answer.

"You will come to us like the hero so many describe you as." The screen started to zoom out so that they could see past the Sontaran. "You will come to us as an exchange—for _her_."

"Molly!" Ron yelled in shock. She was tied up in a sitting position, but still unconscious.

"Of course…" he breathed, and suddenly felt very tired and very scared. The earlier bravado of this morning fled, and he felt very much like John Smith- a normal human being who didn't know what to do, or he knew and didn't want to admit it.

"You are fond of this Earth Girl, yes?"

He found himself nodding, and so tore his gaze away, looking for some kind of help. Donna's knees must have buckled for she was sitting on the floor and taking ragged breaths. Something inside was screaming at him to do something, but Srath spoke again and he was forced to watch.

"She is unharmed. And she will be returned home—in exchange for you."

"No!" Aaron burst out, grabbing his arm. "You can't- they'll kill you!"

"You have an hour, John Smith. Then we shall leave the Earth to its own devices- for however long it shall survive without you!" The Sontaran seemed close to laughing, but the screen went black. After a pause, silent save for Donna's harsh gasps of breath, the soft, calm music started up again.

John numbly passed the phone back to its owner, before walking to the door.

"What are you doing?" Ron called. "Aaron's right, those things want to kill you, mate!"

"They have Molly," he murmured.

"And we have an hour," he replied, and John realized his friend was making a tremendous effort to stay calm. "We can, I don't know, think of a plan, or- or—"

"Shut it!" One of the customers hissed. "It's him or the Earth, let him go if he wants!"

"That's horrible!" Someone else remarked, aghast.

"What plan?" He responded, ignoring the others. "Who's going to think up a plan to rescue Molly from a giant spaceship and then send said spaceship far away where they can't blow up the whole planet?"

"Well, you've got to have some idea—" Aaron started.

"Me! Why me? I don't even know what they want with me!"

"No, but, Aaron's right," Ron insisted. "All that stuff I was saying earlier about you being a different person and how that was bad—forget that. It's- it's a good thing, because you knew what you were doing then."

"No, I didn't," he protested, but his friend continued anyway.

"You made it look like you did! So just- I don't know –go back to that!"

"Go back to that?" He repeated incredulously, attempting to convey just how ludicrous it sounded. "Back to what? I don't even know what that was, and now it's gone!"

"The Doctor," Aaron muttered.

"Sorry?" His head whipped around to stare at the ginger boy.

"That's what it was," he clarified, "the Doctor."

"Aaron," John started, not even trying to conceal the frustration he was feeling, "this is not the time for your _school project_!"

Aaron was hardly paying attention, instead walking back to the table he'd been sitting at before and picking something up. "I know," he said, "but you asked. You've got to come back."

"What do you mean?" He asked, suddenly fearful of whatever the teenager was holding. "I'm right here, Aaron."

"No, you're not," he disagreed solemnly. "I thought- I thought maybe you were, but the Professor was right…you really don't remember."

"Remember what? I don't remember a lot of things—but that doesn't _mean_ anything."

"Yes it does! You don't get it, do you?" Aaron was shaking his head, almost in grudging amazement. "Those moments when you're acting odd- when you don't feel like yourself. That's _you_. This-" He waved a hand up and down to encompass John's whole body. "'John Smith' isn't you."

"Stop it," he muttered, refusing to look at the boy.

"But he's not real!"

"Aaron, no."

"You're not him!"

"Then _what_ am I?"

"The Doctor." It wasn't Aaron who replied.

He met Donna's eyes across the room, and everything else seemed to freeze.

And then she _screamed_.

"Donna!" He cried, rushing to her as her hands clutched at her head.

"Oh- oh my God!" She repeated, over and over as he hovered in front of her, terrified and not knowing what to do. "Oh, my head!"

"What's happening?" Ron asked in alarm.

"It hurts!" She said, paying no attention to them. "Oh, it feels like- like I'm burning!"

"Burning!" He yelped. "Donna, please, what's happening?"

And suddenly he was sprawled on his back on the floor of the café, his cheek stinging from her slap. "What was that for?"

"I'm _remembering_, you space dunce!" Donna glared.

"What?" Was all he managed, flabbergasted.

"And what did I say? I said _no_, and you went and did it anyway. Idiot!" She had to stop a moment as a spasm of pain flickered across her face again. He scrambled to regain his footing, crouching before her.

"What?"

"Oh, brilliant!" She scoffed, rife with sarcasm. "And now you have no bloody idea what I'm talking about, because I've got it all!"

"_What_? Donna, got what?"

"_Your mind_, Sunshine!"

"She's mad!" Ron shook his head, backing away.

"It's his fault if I am!" She retorted, pointing an accusing finger and he found himself flinching. "All that Time Lord consciousness floating around the whole bloody universe with nowhere to go, and what does it lock onto? Donna Noble!"

"But- no, that wasn't—that shouldn't- this shouldn't be happening!" He struggled with the words, not even knowing what he was saying.

"Well it's happening, so fix it!"

"But- but—" John looked around for something, somebody to agree with him. But everyone in the café had backed away, leaving a giant, empty gulf with Donna and him stuck in the center. And she was in pain, so he ought to do something. But what? He couldn't do anything! "How do I help you, Donna? Because you have them- all my memories, my thoughts –I can't get to them because they're in your head!—except I'm saying this so obviously now I have them again," he was leaning in, their faces inches apart before John flung himself away.

"No, no, I don't! I don't know what that was- don't look at me like that!" He warned, for Aaron was staring at him as if in anticipation, waiting for something.

"But you do know what it is," Aaron persisted, "It's you talking—the proper you."

"It isn't! I'm John Smith, that's all I am—I'm not- I'm _not_—" John's protests began faltering as he took in the look of sadness and pity on the boy's face.

"Well, I'm sorry, John Smith," he spoke, holding out the object- a photo? –in his hand. "But you have to see this. You have to know."

His hands shaking, John tentatively reached for the photograph. Winston Churchill…and himself. Huh. Good old Winston.

"What does that make _me_?" John asked in a wavering voice. And perhaps it wasn't fair to ask an adolescent boy such a question, but Aaron bore it anyway.

"A good man," he answered simply, and indicated Donna behind him with a nod of his head, "Because she's going to die, and you're going to save her."

"Such faith in me," he remarked bitterly, his eyes finally coming to rest on Ron who was staring in confused fear at it all. "Goodbye, mate," John whispered, before turning his back to his wonderful, simple flat mate and the teenager who was dooming him. Nothing mattered now except-

"Donna," he knelt before the trembling woman who was now whimpering in pain. Prying her hands from her head, he forced the redhead to look at him. "What do I do?"

"You have to take them- transfer them," she replied in a shaky voice. "But you can't, you'll—"

"Hush, Donna. You know I have to," he offered a comforting smile. Inside, John was feeling very alone and very afraid as a stranger seemed to have stolen his vocal chords and his muscle control. Because he had no more words left, he was just waiting- like Aaron –waiting for himself to die. But his mouth kept talking anyway. "Molly's still up there with the Sontarans, and we can't have that. So please, Donna, give them back."

She gave a little stubborn shake of her head, trying to lean away.

"There's no use fighting it, they're already trying to reach me of their own accord," he pointed out, somewhat smug before sobering. "And I won't let you die."

"Alright," she gave in quietly, giving one last shudder of pain. "But this means _nothing_, Spaceman."

Donna Noble grabbed him by the front of his shirt and crashed their lips together.

"Donna, I'm _married_!" He exclaimed indignantly when they parted for breath. "Ah!" He cried in realization a split second later as she rolled her eyes. "Mouth-to-mouth transfer, most effective conduit!" So the Doctor dove back in and snogged the living daylights out of her.

They were just best friends. Really.

**No, I'm not shipping the Doctor and Donna. But I felt a bit of humor might lighten the mood, and of course I had to reference all the times their relationship is called into question. So…he's back! The Ponds are in for a huge surprise! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**And now for a scene I've been very excited to write! Thanks for all your reviews and other shows of support so far guys. Seriously, I never expected over 60 reviews! You all make my day.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Fifteen**

"This is really looking hopeless," Rory said when they paused again for a break. Amy and River could only nod in miserable agreement. London was simply too big to do it on foot. Once more, she was missing TARDIS travel.

Looking up, however, Amy grinned. "Well, Mr. Pond, I think I've found our ride."

Gregory was barreling down the street in a UNIT jeep, and upon noticing her waving arms, pulled over.

"Ma'am, what are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I expect," she answered, "Looking for John Smith."

"Yes, we went to his home first, but he wasn't in, so now a country-wide search is being implemented," Gregory informed them as they climbed in. He put the jeep in drive again and they continued.

"So we just, keep our eyes peeled?" Rory asked. Gregory grimaced.

"Not that effective, but it's all we have, sir. My superiors aren't very happy."

Amy almost snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet that Colonel Mace is pretty cross," she agreed.

"Does UNIT have any information regarding that, soldier?" River requested, gesturing to the space ship still in the sky.

"The Sontarans, ma'am. They have the woman known as Molly Pines in their possession."

"Great," Rory remarked, shaking his head.

"Poor girl's probably terrified," River murmured, sounding not incredibly sympathetic. Amy, who had never gotten to meet this Molly- a glimpse across the street had been it-simply stared out the window.

"Stop!" She cried suddenly, and Gregory slammed his foot on the brake. After jerking forward and crashing back into the seats, the other three looked at her expectantly.

"What is it, ma'am?"

"That boy, that's the one that was with John Smith, yeah?" She pointed in the window of a café. Amy wasn't sure what was going on in there, but the people seemed to have gathered around the edge of the room and slowly edging their way to the doors, except two who seemed vaguely familiar. One she thought looked like the man that had been with Molly Pines, Ron Sherwood if she remembered correctly, and the other had a familiar mop of red hair she'd seen on the teenager accompanying John Smith to work earlier that week.

"Yes, I think so," Gregory confirmed.

"And that's Ron Sherwood," Rory offered, indicating the taller blond man.

"Good eye, mum," River congratulated, and the group of four made their way to the door.

Throwing it open and pushing past the people exiting, any words Amy might have had on her lips died.

John Smith was lowering a motionless Donna Noble to the ground. Slowly, gently, as one would a—

"Oh my God, is she…?" Ron Sherwood breathed, obviously unable to continue.

"No, just unconscious," John said softly as he straightened, hands reaching up to fiddle with his collar in a manner easily recognizable to Amy- except he froze, and the part of his face she could see looking confused, and fingered at his bare neck before he gave an almost exaggerated shrug.

A Sontaran battle ship with a human hostage in the sky above, Donna Noble knocked out before him, and John Smith briefly entertained a flight of fancy that he might have been wearing a bow-tie! Why did the normal human keep teasing them like that?

But the way he spun about on his heels and clapped his hands together once didn't seem very John Smith to her either.

"Now, Aaron, Ron," he looked at each in turn, "you were saying about a plan?"

"What?" Ron asked bewildered. "What plan, I- I thought she was just dying—and you said—"

"_Shh_," the floppy-haired man said, putting one finger to his lips, and Ron Sherwood's mouth snapped shut, seemingly struck dumb. He then turned to Aaron, waiting patiently.

"Well, we've got to get up there somehow, I reckon," the boy reasoned, and Amy realized suddenly that John Smith was planning on confronting the Sontarans for his friend. Exactly what they didn't want him doing.

Rory stepped forward from the crowd, and said, "Hi, um, I'm from the hospital," he pointed at himself, then Amy. "This is my wife, Amy. That's our daughter—"

"Is this really the time for introductions?" Amy demanded of her husband, astounded by his words. For his part, the other man simply stared with raised eyebrows, but something was dancing in those eyes that she was having trouble identifying.

"Right," Rory muttered, sheepish. "Sorry. But- we couldn't help noticing you're planning to go to the Sontarans, which is a really bad plan because—"

"Yes, I _know_, Rory," he finally interrupted in well-worn exasperation, and Rory too fell silent as Ron had done. "The Sontarans are holding Molly captive and will only release her when I go up there. Of course, then they'll kill me and leave the Earth to be destroyed by some other malevolent creature—I'd wager the Daleks, they have always been quite cross with you humans for some reason—"

"Shut up," Amy burst out, and everyone turned to look at her.

"Sorry?" The man asked in amused surprise, with that cheeky little grin. And it only made Amy want to slap him more.

"Just, shut up. You're not- you can't be- he said—"

"Rule one," River murmured, her voice that deadly calm that meant whoever she was focused on was perhaps an inch from painful death. Her gaze was currently locked on her husband.

He gave a slight nervous chuckle. "Not quite. I wasn't lying—look, the chances of Donna becoming the temporary receptacle for my consciousness—sort of like a magnet," he clarified for the benefit of everyone not River, "in that it attracted the bits of essence—except it's nothing like that, forget the magnet. Anyway! What matters is, Amy," he walked slowly, carefully across the café floor to her. "I'm back." He gave her that special little smile, the one so rare that she knew even John Smith couldn't fake it.

And yet before she could even move a muscle, whether to hit him or hug him was unclear even to her, he leapt away. "Right, Sontarans, Molly, and saving the Earth! Somehow, I've got to get aboard their ship, rescue Molly Pines, and keep the Sontarans from destroying the Earth. And hopefully not get killed. I'd really like to not get killed on a Sontaran battle ship."

"Well, what about the TARDIS?" Amy asked, attempting to fall back into the usual routine. She was absolutely thrown. Her best friend, who had done an amazingly fantastic job of convincing her he was as good as dead, was now very much alive and animated before her as though it was just another adventure. "Can't you use that to get to Molly or—"

"No, no," he dismissed as he paced, holding up a finger again to Ron who had begun to open his mouth likely to ask what a TARDIS was. "No telling what they would do with a TARDIS. And besides, you'll be using her to move Donna to a safe, comfortable location. I suggest the Pond residence."

"What do you mean?" Rory asked. "'We'll be using the TARDIS'. Aren't we coming with you?"

The Doctor stopped, whirling to face them and almost laughing in shock. "Sorry, did I not make that clear? I'm going up to a Sontaran ship with no TARDIS, no sonic, not even a psychic paper, while they've got loads of weapons and a hostage. That is my day today- and if you think for one minute, that I would let you come? Seriously?"

Amy stared back defiantly, leaving them glaring stubbornly at each other.

"So what is the plan, then?" River asked. "Wait for the Sontarans to beam you up?" She spoke in a derisive tone, but he seemed to take her seriously none the less as he approached her, squaring his shoulders.

"Something like that, yes."

"Sweetie, do I even need to point out all the flaws in the plan?" They were speaking quietly, in that way that made Amy think they'd forgotten her and anyone else's existence as they gazed into the other's eyes and leaned in almost close enough to touch- but not quite.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't, Professor Song."

"Will you allow me just one, then?" She asked sweetly.

"If I must," he consented.

"Oh, I think you do."

"Then I'm all ears."

"That's not all you are," she contradicted with a wicked smirk.

"Um, parents?" Rory interrupted, causing the two to snap their heads in his direction, seeming surprised but not really abashed. "Right here."

"Yes! Sorry. You were saying, River?" the Doctor faced River again, although this time a Roman-approved distance away.

"How are you going to keep us here?" It was asked with a eyebrow raised in challenge, and Amy found herself thinking that perhaps River had won this argument.

"Because you're my back-up. River, Amy, Rory," he looked at each of them seriously before continuing, "if something should go wrong- if the Sontarans don't keep their word, or the Nestenes try anything –you have to be here. Because, I really don't know what might happen up there."

"Sir, my superiors would like to talk to you," Gregory finally spoke, and Amy wondered for a brief moment what it was like for the young soldier to be meeting this legend.

"Yes, well, forgive me if UNIT isn't at the top of my priority list at the moment," the Doctor retorted, barely glancing in the young man's direction.

"You're at the top of theirs," was the reply, and he stopped, slowly turning to face him properly.

"Yes, I suppose I am…funny that. What's your name?"

"Gregory Jenkins, sir." It was accompanied with a salute which the Doctor ignored.

"Interesting." He looked at them again. "Ponds, River, you are going to get Donna to the TARDIS and go home while I meet with Gregory's superiors. Then I will meet you there. Is that an acceptable plan?"

She wasn't sure how they would get a better one out of him. And maybe if he went to see UNIT Martha and Mickey would be able to stop him from doing anything stupid. "It is," Amy agreed, "On one condition." He observed her cautiously. "The Sontarans gave you some kind of time limit, yeah?"

"I have half an hour before Molly is in immediate danger, yes." Ron made a sort of noise of protest, likely to argue that Molly Pines already was in immediate danger, but Amy sent a glare in his direction.

"Then you be back by half an hour."

"Very well," he agreed easily, huffing when she merely kept looking at him in suspicion. "Yes, _mum_." And he laughed when she grimaced at the reminder. "Right then, Ponds, River, later—"

"What about us?" Aaron interrupted, and the Doctor stopped halfway across the room with Gregory.

"Sorry?"

"What do we do? You're not just leaving us here, we can help."

Ron finally found his voice again. "Molly's still up there. And I don't really get what's going on or- or _who_ you even are anymore, or why a hospital intern suddenly is one of your best friends—" Rory shrugged helplessly, but the other man kept talking. "But I have to do something."

She found herself grudgingly liking these two.

"Aaron, you've been reading up on me—this isn't an adventure movie, people _die_," the Doctor reminded, voice tinged with old pains and ancient guilt.

"I know," the boy replied. "And you make it so less people die."

Amy was quite impressed. She gave an approving nod and grinned at her friend's stammered protests in the face of such logic.

"Just let us come, mate," Ron said simply, causing the man who was once his flat mate to sigh in defeat.

"Fine, fine! See if I care, not like the TARDIS doesn't have enough room anyway. River, you're in charge- get them all back to the ship," the Doctor grumbled.

"Very well, since you two kind boys insisted, you can carry Donna. Be very careful," their daughter instructed, and the two sighed, resigned to their task and set about lifting Donna Noble up from the ground. "That makes things easier, thank you, Sweetie."

"No trouble at all," he remarked, giving the two men sympathetic looks as they started for the door.

"Is it always like this?" Aaron asked as they passed by her.

"Nope," she said truthfully.

"Usually you're by yourself, dragging them up a set of stairs while aliens try to break in and kill you both," Rory offered in what she supposed he thought was a helpful manner.

"Didn't have to tell them, stupid face," she scolded as they followed the three-person chain out the door.

"Sorry," her husband replied. The Doctor patted Rory's shoulder in comfort as he passed. Amy stopped when she reached him in front of the exit.

"Don't be late, Raggedy Man," she warned.

"Oh Amelia," he breathed, "I wouldn't dream of it."

She waited outside with Rory and watched the Doctor and River exchange some words, slightly disappointed for her daughter's sake that that was all. Soon enough, their little group was heading back down the road, Amy glancing back every few seconds to watch her best friend climb into the UNIT jeep with Gregory. But then she rounded the corner and that was it. He was back, and yet he was sending her away.

"It really isn't always like this," she whispered to herself, but Ron heard it.

"How do you mean?"

"He lets us go with him. He may not like it, and sometimes it gets us in a lot more trouble than we would be in, but he always lets us," she explained with absolute certainty.

"So that means something really is wrong," Aaron suggested, but she didn't respond. She didn't want to think about what that truly meant.

Unbeknownst to Amy, the Doctor slid into the passenger seat of the vehicle and waited for the soldier to get in on his side and shut the door.

"Well then, 'Gregory', take me to your leader."

OoO

If Amy had been expecting anything upon exiting the TARDIS, it hadn't been to be engulfed in the strong arms of Captain Jack Harkness.

"Oh good, you're safe!" She heard him exclaimed in relief, muffled somewhat by her shoulder. She was released as Rory emerged and was given similar treatment.

"Um, Jack, listen- not that I don't like hugs, but—" her husband started, but was already freed as the American had moved onto River. "Ok, what exactly is this about?"

"Is that them?" They heard Martha's voice, and Amy turned with a groan to see the UNIT trailer back. Dr. Martha Smith-Jones and Mickey Smith were running across the lawn toward them.

"Yes," Jack laughed, "all of them, and—hello, who're these?"

Ron and Aaron had reached the front doors of the TARDIS.

"How? How are we in a different place," Ron whispered. "That's not possible—it's a box!"

"The blue box…cool," Aaron said with an amazed grin, shaking his head.

"Aaron, Ron, Jack, Martha, and Mickey," Amy introduced quickly, motioning to each as she said their names.

"Boys, you still have to get her inside," River reminded, and the two newcomers slumped in defeat, going back inside the TARDIS.

"Hang on, I'm not the newest anymore!" Rory spoke in realization before grinning. "Brilliant!"

"You still have to explain it all to _them_," Amy pointed out, and her husband's face fell.

"Oh right." She gave his hand a little squeeze, and then turned to face Jack, Martha, and Mickey.

"This might be a little surprising," she warned, but Martha gasped at something behind her.

"Oh my God, Donna!"

Instantly, the UNIT doctor, her husband, and the immortal man were swarming around the unconscious woman.

"What was she doing on the TARDIS?" Mickey asked in bafflement.

"She can't be around anything to do with the Doctor, how can you—" Jack accused.

"How did she lose consciousness?" Martha questioned, ever the medic as she checked the sleeping woman for any injury. Despite the hindrances caused by the three people, they were able to move Donna into the house and lay her comfortably on a couch.

"She is fine," River finally said, cutting off all further attempts from the others to speak. "Donna started to remember because of the Sontaran's broadcast, but the Doctor was able to siphon the energy off into himself."

It took a moment for that to sink in.

"So…she's alright now? Nothing to worry about with that Meta-crisis stuff?" Were Mickey's concerns, obviously shared by all three, but Martha had caught onto a different part of the sentence.

"'The Doctor was able'? The _Doctor_?"

"The Doc's…back?" Jack continued her train of thought, seeming unsure whether he should voice his hope aloud.

River smiled. "Yes."

Amy found herself partaking in the exuberance of the moment, being pulled into ecstatic embraces and laughing.

"He did it!" She shouted with Martha as they hugged tightly.

"But, didn't you know?" She heard Aaron ask, and Amy froze.

"What?" Jack asked, still with a joyful smile on his face.

"Well, yeah," Rory agreed. "You were searching the city- shouldn't have taken that long for word to reach you."

"What are you talking about?" Mickey spoke, not seeming to follow any of that reasoning. "We weren't searching the city."

"But—" Amy started, feeling suddenly very worried.

"We were checking on all of the Doctor's companions," Martha clarified. "Before the message, we didn't know who they'd taken. That's why we were so glad to see you all." She smiled, but Amy pulled back. Something was wrong, something was so very wrong.

"But he said—Gregory, when he picked us up in the jeep- he said you were combing the city," she insisted, and Jack frowned.

"The Greyhound?" He asked in confirmation, his frown turning to a scowl when she nodded. "Went AWOL this morning. Probably just enough time to drive to London in a stolen jeep."

"And probably learned enough about John Smith to tell the Sontarans to kidnap Molly Pines," River added, closing her eyes and trying not to show any hint of the emotions she was feeling.

"What, he was spying on us?" Ron demanded.

Mickey glanced around, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. "Where is he? The Doctor."

"To meet," Rory said simply and sighed. "With Gregory's superiors."

Amy brought a hand to her mouth as her eyes watered. Gregory…how could he?

And he'd known. The Doctor had known exactly what he was heading for. Because he'd called her Amelia.

**Looks like the Doctor's decided to go it alone. Uh-oh. Did the twist with Gregory surprise any of you? Off to bed now, so I'll just say thanks for reading and please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, here we go with the next chapter! Thanks very much for all the reviews and such, they're a real inspiration!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Ron was sitting at a kitchen table. The kitchen table of his flat mate's forgotten best friends who lived in a village that should have taken them at least half an hour to drive to, but it had only been fifteen minutes. Because they'd taken his flat mate's space ship time machine. And now a bunch of people in berets were running about in a panic because his flat mate—one of his best friends—had let himself be taken to up to the giant space ship full of aliens who wanted to kill him. All to save his other best friend, the girl Ron had completely fallen in love with.

And apparently his friend and flat mate was a doctor or something?

Nobody was paying attention to him and, unlike Aaron, Ron wasn't the type to force his way into a situation. So he'd been left to sit and try and puzzle this entire thing out by himself. Ron was currently failing if he were to be honest. Giving it up as a lost cause, his thoughts turned elsewhere; inevitably to Molly.

He was relieved to at least know where she was, but horrified all the same at her current location. He could only imagine her terror if she were to awake. Molly was just such a kind person, he wasn't sure how she would take being confronted with hostile alien-potatoes.

Her sweet disposition had been the first thing Ron had really noticed about her. He remembered the summer afternoon she'd come in to the hardware store, looking for tools to fix up her new apartment. Ron had seen all manner of attractive women, but walking out of the back room to be met by the tiny, pretty-in-pink, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl with a brilliant smile had really stunned him.

She'd seemed so little and fragile, hardly able to do such work all alone, so he offered to help her. That was the only reason for it, Ron had convinced himself, not that getting to know the newcomer wasn't an added bonus. When it was all finished, she had wanted to pay him, but he had flatly refused. Instead, as a thank you she signed him up for a library card, where she worked.

So Ron had started going to the library. He never really paid much attention to the books he checked out, reading the jackets or the back so he could make a few vague comments if Molly asked him about it. By that point he had admitted to himself that he was only there because he wanted to see her. And he thought maybe she had wanted to see him, too.

In fact, he'd finally worked himself up to the point where he was going to ask her out for dinner. Instead of leaving with the book after a few minutes conversation like he normally had done, Ron had hung around until Molly's shift was over, offering to walk her to the door. The doors had just swung shut behind them and he had just opened his mouth—

But on that fateful night they had met John Smith, and all thoughts of a dinner date with Molly had flown out the window. Sure, he had been a little disappointed, but Ron was willing to forestall his dinner plans for an injured man. He truly liked Molly and wanted to try a relationship with her, but he wasn't blind to the rest of the world.

John himself was a perfectly nice bloke. Sure, him not having memories about school days or favorite sports teams had sometimes made conversation a bit difficult. But helping him find his footing in the world had been an interesting experience, almost like having a little brother, which was something Ron had always wanted as a kid. Getting a decent flat mate out of it had been an even greater bonus. He'd been looking at a nicer flat, but hadn't wanted to split with one of the mates at the store because he was nervous of how Molly might view his boisterous, rather disorganized friends.

But a nice, polite, and almost scholarly bloke was sure to impress her. And impress her John Smith did. For a while, Ron and Molly had worked equally at assisting John's recovery. But after some time, he had backed off, understanding that to really figure things out and sort of become your own man, you needed the space.

Unfortunately, this had had the adverse effect of John then clinging desperately to Molly like a lifeline. It was like the man needed constant company or something! And she loved it. Ron had dated a girl once who owned a dog that she was absolutely in love with, and it was nearly the exact same way with Molly and John. He had resented the attention-stealing then, and he wasn't faring much better now.

At least John still paid attention to him, and in turn Molly. And, pitiful as it was, John kept Molly coming back to him when otherwise she might have gone off with some other bloke in the meantime. Because John was absolutely clueless when it came to Molly's affections, and Ron was just fine with keeping it that way.

Looking back on it now at this kitchen table, he was a little ashamed to admit to himself that he should have been more focused on his flat mate's dilemma. Until a few days ago, he hadn't even met Aaron, and he had refused to listen to John's ramblings about the project he was helping the boy with. Honestly, the DVD extra had freaked him out and he had resolved not to dig into it, but all the same he'd never been a coward. He should have at least listened, because maybe he would have been able to help connect the dots faster and maybe Molly wouldn't have been kidnapped as a result.

He found it hard to doubt his friend's promise to bring Molly back. The look in his eyes had been…odd, but so assured it was impossible not to trust them. But this was where Ron got confused.

His friend, John Smith, apparently had been friends with all these other people who called him 'the Doctor'. That was it, no real name. What kind of bloke went around introducing himself like that, and what kind of people just accepted it? He had a space ship time machine and travelled around doing this sort of thing—namely, stopping aliens from destroying the Earth—all the time.

Ron was struggling and failing to reconcile this character with the man he'd known and lived with. John was smart, but not a genius capable of making or flying a spaceship- that was made of wood, no less! He was friendly, but not the confident take-charge man he'd seen go off with the soldier who turned out to be a spy.

To John Smith, Ron and Molly—and then later, Aaron and Donna—had been everything. And in nearly every relationship, he had been the weaker, the submissive, the follower. With perhaps the exception of Ron, who wasn't much of an authoritarian. The two of them had just sort of coexisted in their flat, neither really assuming the position of leader. They had let Molly do that.

But then John—after rather thoroughly kissing his good friend—had suddenly adopted an air of control, of knowledge, of giving the orders, of being the frontrunner or a showman, of simply _not-John_. He'd greeted and dismissed his newly-discovered friends in almost the same breath, assigned them tasks, flirted rather familiarly with one of them, and shushed him so effectively Ron had barely spoken five sentences since. And then swiftly walked into the clutches of- supposedly –his enemies, as though it were the most brilliant plan in the world.

That was not the sort of man John Smith was. But he had seen his friend do it with his own eyes! So what had really happened? He got that John—or 'the Doctor' as his name _apparently_ was—had somehow got his memories back. But how had that so radically changed him? In movies or television, that never happened. While extremely tense, his friends all couldn't seem to stop going on about how he was 'back'. Back from what? And if 'the Doctor' was back…where did that leave John?

Feeling that was his most pressing concern, seeing as Molly was supposedly being rescued by his friend-not-friend, Ron looked up as a man entered the kitchen. It was Rory the Friendly Intern, as John had called him in the hospital, and Ron almost wondered if these people had been stalking them the whole time.

"Um…excuse me, have you got a minute?"

Rory glanced at him, seeming almost surprised. "Um, yeah. I do." He sat across from Ron at the table. "Uh…what is it? Is it the TARDIS? Look, I know it can seem really confusing, but just try to think of it as—"

"No, I'm just trying to forget about that a moment," Ron said, shaking his head. He supposed the TARDIS or whatever was the name of the space ship he'd just been in. Strange sort of name. "It's just…the Doctor, was it?"

"Yep." Rory replied.

"Well, he was my friend. My flat mate actually," he started explaining, but Rory was already nodding his head.

"Yeah, I know. You said at the hospital."

"Right," he agreed, a bit embarrassed but determined to continue. "Well…is he always like that?"

"Yep."

"Oh. He wasn't much like that. John wasn't like that," he corrected at seeing Rory's furrowed eyebrows. A look of understanding came across his face.

"Right, well he used this thing- the Chameleon Arch. I don't know how it works—really, don't ask—but, it sort of turned him into a human and wiped all his memories. And then it sort of gave him a new life, but apparently did a really shoddy job of it because it didn't have the watch- or something, and—I've lost you, haven't I?" Ron nodded in response, and Rory sighed.

"So what you're saying is, the Doctor is not John Smith?" He asked carefully, wanting to be sure he made his point.

"Yep. I mean- he said that, but he didn't seem all that different in the hospital—"

"That was when he started acting funny. Around you and Donna. It got way worse at the hospital, because before it was just waving pens around in funny ways or forgetting to sleep some nights. But he didn't get really weird till the hospital. John wasn't weird." He felt it was important to stress it was John he was talking about.

"Odd to really think about," Rory commented. "The Doctor's nothing but weird."

"Ok," Ron had to look out the window a moment and swallow before speaking again. Of course, out the window he saw the abnormal flying blue box he'd arrived in minutes ago, which hardly made the next words easier. "So my best friend's dead, then?"

"What?" Rory's mouth had dropped open, clearly shocked at the direction the conversation had taken. He quickly scrambled to come up with a proper, comforting response. "No- I mean, uh, he's still alive—he's just the Doctor, you know?" Rory gave a small chuckle, but quickly stopped when he didn't join in. "So that's…going to take some getting used to, but, uh…" he trailed off, running out of steam at the unchanged expression on Ron's face. Rory leaned forward toward him, a serious look on his face. "Ron, John Smith never existed, he was just—"

"He did too exist!" Ron yelled in outrage, the chair scraping back as he stood, and Rory jumped in alarm. "He- he was our _friend_!" Feeling somewhat self-conscious, as he was shouting in this man's own kitchen, Ron abruptly took his seat. In a lower volume, but with equal intensity, he continued. "He worked in a library, right down the street aways from the hardware store where I work. He loved nothing more than helping people around the library finding books or working on projects and homework. He drank more tea in one day than I could in a week. He was my flat mate and my best friend. And your- your _Doctor_," he spit the name out with venom, suddenly detesting the man who had sprung forth at him, "stole his life."

"Ron—" Rory started to protest, but the kitchen felt much too small at the moment and Ron headed for the back door.

"And Molly's never going to forgive him," was his last warning, before stomping out on to the back lawn. He glowered at the blue box for a time before sighing in defeat and sitting on the ground, head on his arms on his knees.

OoO

Aaron, simply put, was loving this. Yes, there was a giant space ship that now held two people captive over London. Yes the Earth could be wiped out of existence any moment. And yes, he was stuck waiting in some little village for news. But hey, it was way more exciting than home.

And maybe because he'd been spending the most of his time researching the Doctor, he was remembering something that everybody else was forgetting in their state of panic. The Doctor did this all the time. If it had worked in the past, why get too carried away with the worrying? He trusted the Doctor, and he trusted John Smith.

The way he saw it, having one of his only friends be a face-changing time traveler was pretty brilliant. Yeah, it was weird and a little intimidating—because how could a guy that terrified monsters actually be friendly towards a kid like him—but mostly brilliant.

If anything, Aaron was more upset with himself that he hadn't figured it out before. Because, sometimes John was just_ weird_. The first day they'd met, Aaron had thought he was the weirdest bloke he'd yet to meet, and that was saying something with the parents he had. And sometimes John just knew things or did things that weren't very John, but were very much the Doctor.

He had spent so much time trying to convince the man that the Doctor could change his face, but he hadn't even paused to consider the possibility. It was irony slapping him in the face, he just knew it.

Aaron had even read a book, some _Journal of Impossible Things_, detailing this exact situation! Well, he'd read the bits coming from the actual journal—written by a John Smith, so really how stupid did that make him—and skimmed the bits written by the lady. The Doctor was just so cool, it was hard for him to try and picture him as just another human the woman had met.

And he couldn't really blame himself for not paying more attention to the book. It'd read like one of those supernatural romance novels! Teen Paranormal Romance, the bookstores were calling them. He remembered one afternoon a girl trying to get John's attention—they were always trying to get John's attention, but the man was thick as a brick—had asked him where to find such a genre in the library. He'd looked at her like she'd grown three heads. Which, he supposed, could actually occur now that it had been proven beyond a doubt that the Doctor was real.

Wow. The Doctor was actually real. Everything he'd been researching and studying this whole time…was actually a reality. It was a bit hard to take in, truthfully. Sure, he hadn't really doubted it- one seed of doubt would have sent him scouring the shelves for Churchill books, he just knew it. But to have his theories, his scattered ideas shown to be fact was incredibly rewarding and incredibly odd.

And a small part of him wondered, just entertained for the tiniest moment, if after everything had blown over and settled down and after he'd stopped the aliens from carrying out their plan, the Doctor might just consent for an interview. For a friend of John Smith's sake, maybe?

OoO

Rory had been sent for a cup of tea five minutes ago. Amy had heard River send him off impatiently. It was fast approaching six minutes. Why was it always five minutes with these men?

She'd given him thirty minutes this time. Thirty minutes, and she doubted it would make much difference. Only this time, he'd never come home.

And she had enabled it, hadn't she? Amy Pond, all alone, talking to the soldier with a listening ear—the one soldier who just happened to be with the bad guys. Telling him everything that was going on, bringing him along to see John Smith and all his friends.

She'd never even met Molly Pines properly, and had condemned her to capture. That poor girl was being used as ransom now, for a prize she would never realize the true worth of. No one would ever realize the truth worth of again.

Because she was the one who'd done it. The companion who had a hand in the Doctor's death. Out of everyone else, who had forced him into regenerations, torture, near-death, and a whole host of other awful things, Amy was the last. She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, couldn't ignore nice, innocent-seeming Gregory.

And how unfair was it, that she had had no clue, and he had known in just a glance? And yet he was to die, for her stupidity. It was too much to take. Nothing would help, but she needed tea, and her husband was taking _too bloody long_.

"Hey," a soft voice spoke, and she raised watery eyes to meet Jack's gentle smile. "He'll be ok. The Doc always pulls through."

"No but I've seen him die," she protested, "Thought I did, anyway, but I- I know he's not perfect. He's not invincible. And it's just- all going to be my fault," catching a glimpse of her daughter's curly hair behind her, Amy lost her resolve and began to sob. "I'm _so_ sorry, River!"

She couldn't bare it any longer and put her head in her hands. Amy felt Jack start to put his arm around her, but Martha must have shooed him away for it was her arms that encircled her. Probably a better choice, Rory would've been furious if he'd seen it.

"What have you got to be sorry for?" It was the completely bewildered tone to her daughter's voice that caused Amy to look up, momentarily stunned in to stopping her tears. "He's the one that went up there. It'll be him who's sorry when he gets back."

Martha gaped, but Amy was now struggling to hold back giggles. Trust River to have complete faith in her husband…and be ready to make him pay for her having to call upon that faith. River's smirk and simply imagining the slap that was sure to be in the future, a few of Amy's chuckles slipped out. Jack joined in, clearly glad the mood had shifted, and Martha merely shook her head in disbelief.

"Love you, River," Amy said after wiping at her eyes for a minute.

River smiled, satisfied at having accomplished her goal. "Love you too, mum."

"_Mum_?" Martha repeated, drawing back from Amy slightly to look between the two other women. But Rory chose that moment to enter, making a beeline for her with the tea.

"Sorry for the wait," he apologized, but Amy waved it off, just glad he was back and she had something else to focus on.

"No problem, stupid face," she replied, taking a long gulp of the hot beverage.

Martha had found her voice again. "She said _mum_."

"Of course," River replied, choosing to hide her smirk. "Amy and Rory are my parents, why wouldn't I call her my mother?"

Martha looked back at them, and Rory waved awkwardly.

"Hello," he spoke, rather unnecessarily, and Amy rolled her eyes.

"But—" she started, seeming unable to fully grasp it. "And you knew!" The UNIT doctor pointed an accusing finger at Jack, who grinned back.

"I said they were a family the Doctor befriended," he reminded, "I never said how they were related."

Martha shook her head with a laugh. "I can't believe it…Oh my God," she said suddenly, turning back to Amy. "You're- you're his mother-in-law!"

"Do you have to say it so loud?" Amy complained, taking another large swallow of the tea in her added misery.

"No, but- it's just," the other woman tried to explain, seeming quite overcome with whatever humor she was seeing in the situation. "He's terrible with mothers. Half the time they hate him! But he's got a mother-in-law!"

"Well, sometimes their relationship can be…turbulent," Rory admitted, and Amy scowled.

"Shut up," she said, whacking him on the arm lightly, and Jack laughed loudly. "We have our differences," she conceded, "but I always argue for what's in his best interests. Like not wearing stupid hats, or fighting aliens by himself…he's really bad at being alone."

Though smiles were still lingering on their faces, the mood in the room had shifted once again. That was when Mickey came bursting into the house.

"We're getting something!" He announced breathlessly. "Weird readings again—from the TARDIS!"

**Stopping there so I can sleep. Next chapter we see how the Doctor fares against the Sontarans and what becomes of Molly! I'll try and have that up before Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, if not probably right after. I seriously recommend going on the BBC website—they have a rather hilarious clip with the Doctor and Queen Nefertiti. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**I think I'm actually overwhelmed by the praise you guys have given this story. Seriously, I am so glad you all like it so much! Thanks for continuing to inspire me to be better. Without further ado, the next chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Tell me, Gregory—can I call you Gregory?—how long exactly have you been a Nestene Duplicate, eh?" The Doctor was being held at the elbow by the plastic soldier as he was led down a corridor of the Sontaran's ship. He had to hand it to the Nestenes, they continued to perfect their craft between every encounter he had with them. Poor Ponds, not to mention UNIT, would likely not see this betrayal even coming.

But now was not the time to worry about them—he had first Molly Pines and then the entire Earth to think about. Then perhaps it would be appropriate to see about the Ponds and their personal wounds.

Gregory the plastic UNIT soldier gave him no reply, and instead marched him into the main room of the ship, quite full with Sontarans, who all looked up at his approach. The one he recognized from the broadcast as Srath stepped forward, motioning plastic Gregory away.

"So it is that we meet face-to-face, John Smith. For a human, you do not seem alarmed at your situation. I commend you for your courage, but—"

"Sorry to tell you, but John Smith's taken a permanent holiday," he interrupted, quickly remembering why conversing with a Sontaran was often rather dull. They tended to all say the same thing, really. "You're not dealing with any ordinary human, Srath. The Doctor is in." He finished the last by reaching up to straighten his bow-tie—why did John Smith _not_ wear bow-ties?—and ended up just fixing his collar a bit. He supposed it still had a similar effect, even if he was inwardly bemoaning the loss of his treasured accessory. Bow-ties were _cool_.

If anything, Srath actually seemed to smile in satisfaction, not that a Sontaran was particularly known for the happier spectrum of facial expressions.

"This is a most fortunate turn of events!" He proclaimed. "Before, we had contented ourselves with the idea of disposing of your human form. But now, the Sontaran victory over the Doctor may now be fully complete!"

"Yes, yes, very nice," he agreed with some impatience, "But what exactly about my becoming a human was so bad? Why launch a near-invasion of the planet?"

"Your actions at the Library Planet were offensive to us," Srath replied, apparently bestowing upon his enemy the honor of knowing the reason for his demise. How kind of him, at least you could count on a Sontaran for a little respect. "The Sontarans knew that your entering into…Earthly domestics…would only make you weak, but an absolute retreat from the field of battle in such a way was unacceptable!"

The Doctor actually laughed. This seemed to surprise Srath and his fellows, so he attempted to calm himself down. "Are you actually saying that you all got plugs in your probic vents because I'm _married_ and decided to be nice to my wife?"

"It is no laughing matter, Doctor," Srath objected with a severe frown. "This contract you have entered into with the daughter of your companions has only helped to expose your weaknesses. It is that weakness you readily allow us to exploit today."

He really had stopped laughing now, and looked around at all of them assembled. "It is truly sad that such technologically advanced beings are so blind." He locked eyes with Gregory Jenkins' Duplicate standing back by the control panels and held his gaze imploringly, trying to find some spark of _something_ within. "To feel that kindness or _love_- is just a weakness?" Finally turning away from the Nestene's creation in defeat, the Doctor looked back at Srath. "How do you live with yourselves?"

Srath did not give that question any reply. "Nevertheless, you have walked willingly into our trap—and all for this!" The commander pressed a button on the wall, causing a panel to slide open revealing a smaller room. And stumbling out of that room, looking disoriented and very, very scared was—

OoO

Molly had come to slowly, becoming aware after a time of noises. They were muffled, as though in the room over. That thought made her open her eyes. Where was she?

It was a cramped, dark space, with four walls and no windows. She felt a little relieved she wasn't claustrophobic, or this would be an absolute nightmare. As it was, Molly was already rather frightened. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here, or even where here was. The last thing she recalled was…

That return slot for the books—it had _eaten_ her! Not that it had chewed her up or anything, but it had stretched open and pulled her inside, and then everything had gone dark. So, somehow, she'd been kidnapped. But why? What could anyone possibly want with her?

Standing up, gingerly as she was rather sore from laying on the hard floor for so long, Molly shuffled forward, trying to see if there was an exit. She thought her foot brushed over something softer than the metal flooring, but not really wanting to investigate whatever it was, she leaned against the opposite wall.

The effect this had was to make the voices louder and a bit clearer, so Molly pressed her ear against the wall. Maybe she'd hear something that would give her an idea of where she was. But Molly could only make out snatches of sentences, nothing that particularly stood out. Except…

Did that one voice sound just a bit like Johnny?

Before she could even ponder that, Molly heard an unfamiliar, gruff voice say something again, loud enough at the end for her to catch the words, "And all for this!"

Molly hadn't expected the wall to suddenly slide out from under her, and so tripped into the room, only just catching herself. The lighting was brighter, and she took a moment to adjust. But when she looked up—

"Johnny!"

It _had_ been him! Johnny had found her! But the stricken look on his face at the sight of her caused her to look around, wondering why on Earth he was so tense.

She shrieked and jumped backward, toward the little room she'd just left. Because what she was seeing could not be possible. What _were_ these things? Molly felt paralyzed with fear after her surprised start- but Johnny was striding through them, completely determined and seeming unconcerned that they were amongst these creatures.

When he reached her, Johnny put gentle, firm hands on her shoulders. "Molly, oh Molly," he spoke almost with a sigh, and when she gazed into his eyes…she thought she might drown in the waves of sadness and guilt that seemed to pour from those depths. She couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped. He glanced down, his shoulders slumping. "I'm so very, very sorry."

"Johnny, I don't- I don't understand," she stammered. "Where are we? What- what are—"

"They're called Sontarans, Molly," Johnny explained, looking back up at her with that intense stare. She'd been hoping for Johnny to look at her, really look at her- but this somehow wasn't it. This was so very different. It was like he was seeing her, but he was seeing everything about her, cataloguing it away in his head like all those things he knew about the books in the library. Molly didn't think she liked that. He'd been hesitating, obviously debating whether to continue, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to. "And I'm sorry…" he started, "But we're on their space ship."

"Their _what_?" She asked hollowly. A space ship! But- there wasn't- these were—she was trapped in space.

And Molly couldn't stop herself from releasing a choked sob and clutching at his shirt as though it were a lifeline.

"But I promise you, Molly, I am going to get you off this thing. Alright? Molly?" She knew she should be responding, but Molly was honestly just stupefied with terror and could only keep gasping out breaths and sobs.

"How pathetic," one of the- the _aliens_ sneered. "Is this sniveling human really worth the life of the last Time Lord, Doctor? You make a poor General."

Molly stopped crying then, not because she had calmed down or was no longer scared, but because of the _look_ that took over Johnny's face. It was cold, dark, and really quite furious. She couldn't even try to suppress the shudder such an expression caused her. Seeming to realize his mistake, Johnny abruptly lifted his hands from her, as though wary of spooking her.

"You know," he spoke, in a much louder voice than he had to her, and it seemed to fill the space in a way Johnny's never had before. She couldn't believe it- Molly would have expected him to be trembling right next to her, but instead he was addressing their captors with a most peculiar familiarity! "that's where we've always disagreed, the Sontarans and me." He turned to actually face the- Sonsomething—how did he even know what to call them? "I don't see myself as a General."

The main alien seemed to harrumph in response. "Perhaps that is best for you, for you would undoubtedly be ashamed of some decisions you have made. Though we admire your sense of honor to appear upon the front lines yourself, it was foolhardy to order your willing forces to retreat!"

"And let you gun them down on sight? Ha!"

Molly was so confused, why was Johnny acting like this? He wasn't himself- almost seemed out of his head!

She tugged on his sleeve, diverting his attention from their captors. "Johnny…I- I don't—"

But he was looking over her shoulder at something behind her, in the little room she'd left. "Looks like I do have a small measure of reinforcement," he murmured, and Molly turned around bewildered.

That was when she saw the soft thing she'd bumped with her foot earlier. It was a man's leg. A young man, sprawled unconscious on the floor in mostly black clothing and a bright red beret.

"Oh my goodness!" She cried, momentarily forgetting her own dismal situation and hurrying to check on the stranger. "He's starving!" Molly proclaimed, shocked and horrified at the emaciated state the man—practically a boy—was in.

"Gregory Jenkins," Johnny said, not having moved. "The real Gregory Jenkins, that is. How long have you had this human on your ship? How much of his life have you stolen?" His voice was quiet and sad, but it still carried with an authority that demanded an answer.

"We captured the human many Earth months ago, for the Nestenes to use to infiltrate. It shall be amusing, if not interesting, to see how long these weak creatures shall survive without you, Doctor." It was the second time she'd heard them call Johnny that. She couldn't even begin to puzzle that one out. But one thing managed to sink in.

_Worth his life…without him_

And when she raised her head again to meet Johnny's now unbearable stare, his eyes were sad and so impossibly old.

OoO

She was looking up at him from her position on the floor, and somehow- though she'd been shocked and frightened beyond any type of decency and was completely out of her comfort zone –Molly Pines knew. She knew what he was going to do.

"Johnny…" she almost whispered, but he could offer her no comfort. It was time to make the exchange.

Turning away from her and back to Srath, the Doctor said, "She is _not_ to be harmed. You will teleport her- and Gregory Jenkins –back to Earth immediately. And you will leave this planet."

"Acceptable terms, though it is you who should be making concessions, Doctor," the Sontaran agreed, gesturing towards two soldiers. Molly gave a shriek as they moved towards her, but was powerless as one started to drag her away and the other picked up the motionless Gregory.

Speaking of Gregory…"Just a quick question: How exactly did you and the Nestenes end up teaming up?"

"Quite an easy feat," Srath informed him, "the opportunity to seek revenge against you was enough to convince us to combine our strengths."

"Ah," he nodded with an understanding look. Molly and Gregory were being placed in a teleport, which a Sontaran was now preparing for departure. "So, where do you go after this?"

"To bring proof of our victory and completed mission home, of course. The Earth Girl may deliver the news of your death to your 'adopted' planet."

At the word 'death' Molly started to struggle, tears pouring down her face. "No!" She was barely able to understand what was happening, and yet she was still fighting the Sontaran that was trying to get her in the teleport. This was causing the soldier in question to become increasingly agitated.

"It's alright, Molly," he called in an attempt to calm her. Though they'd promised not to hurt her, it likely wouldn't stop them from retaliating if they felt they'd been provoked. And Sontarans were so very easily provoked. "Just do as they tell you and you'll be home before you know it." The teleport was firing up, but still she fought against it. Oh dear Molly.

"Please, don't!"

Srath was looking at her with a great deal of disdain, so the Doctor decided to take his attention away from the human girl. "So, you're saying this is a done deal, no going back."

"Indeed," Srath agreed as a couple Sontarans pulled him by the arms where he was stopped in front of the blank wall across from the teleport. Over Srath's head, he could see Molly standing there with a tear-streaked face as she watched. Srath pulled out his weapon.

"A swagger stick, eh?" he couldn't keep from commenting. "Well, worse ways to go, I suppose, but I'd never really hoped for this one."

The Sontaran made no comment, instead readying the weapon.

"Remind me if I'm wrong," he tried again, "But failing a mission is punishable by—"

"Death," the commander answered in the affirmative.

"Right," he nodded, hurrying on as Srath had taken aim. "So, if all your systems were to lose power except the teleport, and your weapons rendered useless, that would be considered a failed mission, yes?"

Srath stared at him, bewildered. "What are you talking about, Doctor?" It was at that moment the lights dimmed and the hum of the ship, previously background noise, quieted.

"Warning: Command Ship power systems drained. Emergency transport activating in five minutes. All soldiers to pods." Announced an automated voice over the sound system as an alarm blared over and over.

"What?" Srath shouted in outrage. Many of Sontarans began making their way from the room. "What have you done, Doctor?"

There was no stopping the ear-to-ear grin on his face. "It's nothing _I've_ done. It was Gregory—Plastic Gregory, you've done it!"

The Nestene Duplicate emerged from behind the control panel, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

"How?"

"_How_? Oh, I'll tell you how! Do you know- do you know, just who Gregory the Nestene Duplicate has been talking to all this time? _Amelia Pond_. Amy Pond! Ha!" He clapped his hands together once in sheer exuberance. "Amy Pond- grew up with a crack in her wall, the universe pouring into her head—glorious, magnificent Pond! And all Gregory here has been doing these past few months, is listening to her! That's just brilliant, simply brilliant!"

Srath was almost shaking in rage. "Nevertheless, a Sontaran does not retreat from battle. This will not save you, Doctor!"

"Oh forget that, your pod is leaving in less than three minutes and if it leaves without you, you'll be considered a deserter back home," he pointed out, leaping over one of the few control stations and ducking behind the teleport. The commander's shot just missed.

"Hiding is not the actions of a noble warrior!"

"Yeah?" He risked poking his head out. "Well neither's deserting!"

With a final enraged shout, Srath retreated from the room to his teleport.

"What's going on?" Molly shouted over the tumult.

"The ship's power's all been concentrated into this teleport," he explained in a loud voice, ripping open one of the panels. "Which means I can send us to the safest location possible!"

"And where's that?"

"The TARDIS!"

"The _what_?"

"Oh, never mind, Molly!"

"Johnny- how are you even going to do that?" She tried instead, and he almost didn't reply as he reached for—no- no- no—

"The sonic!" The Doctor yelped in horror as he searched for it in vain. "Oh, I don't have the sonic, it's still at—I really need to make spares!"

"Here!" Plastic Gregory was at his side with—oh! A Sontaran wiring kit!

"Plastic Gregory, you are amazing!" He crowed, immediately getting to work.

"Thanks, but- how did you know? What I was going to do?"

"He called me John Smith—you hadn't reported that I'd become the Doctor again," he revealed, and Gregory nodded in realization.

"Become the _what_?"

"_Shh_!" And somehow, even over the blaring alarm—"Shut up," he growled at it under his breath—Molly still was effectively shushed. "Ok!" He announced, leaping up again and hurrying around to the right side of the teleport. "Everybody in?"

"Tell Amy," Plastic Gregory said, and the Doctor looked up to see the Nestene Duplicate had backed away from the teleport.

"Oh, Plastic Gregory, it's a tight squeeze I know, but you'll fit!" He pleaded. "Don't do this!"

"As soon as the Nestene's realize I betrayed them, they'll sever my telepathic link, Doctor. You know it's true," the soldier met his gaze steadily, and yet the Doctor opened his mouth to try again. "There's nothing you can do," Plastic Gregory insisted. "Just, tell Amy I'm sorry."

"Oh Plastic Gregory," he breathed, and he doubted the words were heard, but the other seemed to read his lips. "I will."

The Duplicate of Gregory Jenkins raised his arm in a salute, and the Doctor, for once, returned it in equal measure. And that was the last he saw of Plastic Gregory, because a blinding light signifying the teleport activating obscured him from view, and next the Doctor blinked, he was—

Home.

"Hello, dear," the Doctor murmured. And Sexy hummed a hello right back.

**Stopping now. Boy, not much left now! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Well, back with another chapter. You guys are amazing! Many thanks for all the reviews and favorites and follows, and even a C2, I'm honored! "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship" is looking to be an exciting episode, so I'm excited for that as well. As such, I'm very much in the mood to type!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eighteen**

When they'd all run out to the TARDIS, they found Ron standing there and staring in shock.

"There- there was sort of this bright light for a minute," he stammered, "Is that supposed to happen?"

Amy pushed past him in her urgency to get to the door, but before she could even touch it, Jack stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"That sounds pretty unusual," he pointed out. "It'd probably be best if I checked it out first." Seeing as he appeared to be in serious mode, there was no arguing against it. Amy huffed and crossed her arms, standing back as Jack and a couple UNIT soldiers moved forward with weapons ready, the American pushing open the door just a crack. When a large grin spread across his face and he opened the ship's door all the way, Amy finally got to see inside.

"Molly, you need to breathe- that's necessary for you humans, and I know all you want to do right now is cry and squeeze the life out of whatever you're holding, but I happen to require oxygen as well," the Doctor was saying in an increasingly raspy and high-pitched voice as he expended whatever air he had left. His arms were lifted up and away from the girl who had plastered herself to his side, arms like the coils of a boa constrictor as she seemed incapable of nothing but shaking and sobbing. "I suppose I don't absolutely need it," he conceded as Molly Pines had yet to respond, and he was clearly at a loss for how to detach himself without causing her a panic attack.

"Molly!" Ron ran past her up the stairs to the console, and the brown-haired woman finally seemed to snap out of her teary state somewhat.

"Ron?" The sandy-haired man only embraced her in response, the Doctor's eyes bulging comically since he was included as his current position necessitated it.

"And this is fine, too. Even better!" The words were barely in an audible decibel, and Amy was about to march right up there and rescue him, but Molly at last unwound her arms from him and returned Ron's hug.

"Oh my goodness, Ron, I thought I was going to—and Johnny was—and- and—"

"It's ok," Ron muttered reassuringly, holding her tightly and rubbing circles on her back. Feeling quite like she was intruding on a private moment, Amy instead focused on her Raggedy Man, who had fallen to all fours and was taking enormous gasps of breath like a near-drowned man.

"Doctor!" Finally not being restrained and getting over the shock of his appearance in the TARDIS, Amy bolted up the stairs and kneeled to reach his level.

"Amy," he managed between breaths, reaching up weakly to pat her on the shoulder in a clumsy effort she chose to overlook. "Good old Pond. How am I on time?"

Not understanding at first, Amy glanced at her watch. "Two minutes." He hung his head in defeat, but her next words caused it to shoot back up again. "You have two minutes to spare."

"I'm early," he said in wonderment, and the two could only stare at each other. "I'm _early_!" His grin was infectious, and she couldn't help the amused chuckle that escaped upon seeing his joy. He'd actually kept his promise.

"Are you ok?" Rory had followed after her and walked around to one side of the Doctor. He then attempted to get the man on his feet. "You're not hurt?"

"No, course not," their friend dismissed, even as his knees wobbled and he leaned heavily on her husband. "Thanks Rory, always can count on a Roman, eh Amy?"

"Alright, let's actually get you up." It was the Torchwood leader who spoke, and Amy stood and moved out of the way so that Jack could assist Rory.

"Jack Harkness!" The Doctor remarked, finally seeming to find his footing. "What are you doing here, Captain?"

"You know me, can't stay away," Jack replied easily with a grin. "Good to see you again, Doc."

"Yes, very good, but you can let go of me now, not about to fall over," the Doctor pointed out, and though he smirked wickedly, Jack released him. Amy rolled her eyes, not quite sure at what; the Captain's blatant flirting or the Doctor's chronic obliviousness.

"Yeah, out of the way Cheesecake, let some others have a turn," Mickey agreed as he and Martha made their way forward.

"Martha and Mickey! Blimey, this is a lot more people than I was expecting," he seemed almost astonished by the appearance of several of his old friends. Now that he'd gotten over his brief dizzy spell, the Doctor spun and skipped his way around them, ending up by the doors.

"Well, what did you think was going to happen?" Martha asked incredulously, though a smile was lighting her face like all the rest. "You're looking a bit pale, actually, she didn't choke you too bad, did she?" But before the UNIT doctor could take more than two steps in his direction again, their friend held up his hands as though they were stop signs.

"No need to worry about me, Dr. Jones. But I do think that young man behind you needs your attention." Naturally they all turned to look.

He was lying on the floor, skin-and-bones and having much less color, but it was Gregory.

"Oh my God!" Martha exclaimed, instantly kneeling at her patient's side. "I think he's just unconscious, but- Mickey, Jack, can you get him to the UNIT medical station?"

"Of course," her husband replied, and the two men lifted the sleeping body together, the Doctor pulling the door open for them.

"Listen, we'll be back—" Martha said as she passed, but the Doctor merely gestured at the door.

"Out of the TARDIS, Jones. Actually, that sounds like a brilliant idea- much too cramped for my liking," the Doctor commented. "I mean, it's bigger on the inside, but—"

"Johnny," Molly called, apparently having calmed down enough to become truly aware of her surroundings. The Doctor froze at the door. "What is this place? Who are all these people?"

Amy blanched, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as her friend slowly mounted the stairs, coming to a stop in front of the brunette. Ron stood right next to her, a frown evident on his face as the other man approached.

"Molly," the Doctor said gently. "You are on a spaceship, which is currently parked on Earth. You're safe," he made clear, and she nodded in relief. "Only- only- only- only—" he seemed unable to figure out how to continue, stuck on the first word. Taking a breath to collect his thoughts and shaking his head a bit, he said, "It's _my_ space ship."

Molly blinked. "What?"

"Apparently, John is an alien called the Doctor who lost all his memories before we met him, only now he's remembered," Ron explained. "So now, he's back to being the Doctor and John's gone. He's not our friend anymore, Molly."

Molly gasped and turned to stare at the Doctor with wide eyes. He'd been nodding through the explanation, right until the last second when a bewildered look came across his face.

"Sorry- not your friend, anymore? What do you mean?" His eyebrows were drawn down as he stared inquisitively at Ron. The other man flinched under the examination, but found his voice.

"Well, you're not John anymore. And…he was the one who lived with us and hung out with us so…" the sandy-haired man trailed off as the Doctor shook his head.

"No, no- you've got it all wrong, Ron! Just because I remember everything about my past, doesn't mean the time when I forgot doesn't matter! If anything I appreciate it all the more," he informed them with a smile. "So where on Earth did you get such an idea from, Ron? That's just rubbish."

"Well, I mean, he said—" Ron muttered, gesturing in Rory's direction. The Doctor cast a look over his shoulder.

"Ah, Rory!"

"Sorry! Not exactly the easiest thing to explain," her husband defended, and Amy couldn't help but grin at him.

"Nice going, stupid face."

The Doctor, meanwhile, had maneuvered around Molly Pines and Ron Sherwood and ended up wedged in between, one arm around each of their shoulders. "So I may have a different name and own a space ship- and a time machine. Just think of her as a box! But that's not the really important thing," he continued, leading them down the steps and to the doorway. "What's _really_ important, Ron and Molly, is that a very crucial conversation is about to take place between you two, and I think you'd appreciate some space." He stepped back and with firm push, guided the two out of the TARDIS.

Nodding in satisfaction, he spun on his heel once more, spotting the two Ponds on the stairs. "Right, Ponds!" He started, clapping his hands together. "Glorious Ponds, magnificent Ponds, come along, Ponds—"

Growing a little tired of this, Amy walked down the stairs to meet him at the door. "Take it easy, Raggedy Man."

He gave a start at her hand touching down on his shoulder, and she couldn't help but find it odd that her fingers weren't scratching against tweed. "Yes, quite right," he agreed, appearing to have snapped out of his manic babbling.

Rory had joined them as well and said, "You do have permission, you know."

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked in confusion.

"Permission to hug? It's really not that big a deal," her husband said, and it caused Amy to realize- aside from Molly's death-grip hug and using Rory and Jack to get up from the floor, the Doctor really hadn't touched anyone. Instead, he'd been spinning and rushing about with an even greater frenzy, which was saying something.

"Oh! Yes, yes. Amy, Rory," he said respectively, throwing his arms around each in rapid succession. It was hardly his usual standard, and she did not nearly have time to properly respond. Amy couldn't hide her frown; his hugs had definitely been on her list of things she had missed.

"Um…you sure you're ok?" Rory asked, sharing a glance with her as he spoke. "Cause Martha's right, you do look kind of—"

"Fine- fine- I'm fine! Yes. But, tell you what," he said, and a hand on her shoulder started directing her toward the door, "wouldn't mind a cup of tea. So, you two can start the kettle—"

"But-" Amy said, finding herself and her husband already on their back lawn. The Doctor was half-leaned out the two, but his feet were still firmly planted inside.

"And I will meet you in—ah!" Their friend broke off in surprise, and perhaps a little fear, having just noticed River leaning against the doorframe. It seemed their daughter had decided to patiently wait out the mob in the TARDIS, and now it was her turn.

"Hello, Sweetie," she said, and though she was smiling pleasantly, something almost…predator-like sparked in the professor's eyes.

"Er, River. Yes," he acknowledged, no better than the Byzantium days, really.

"We need to talk, Doctor," River said, getting right to the point. He swallowed nervously.

"Um- yes. We do," he agreed, edging out of the TARDIS and side-stepping so he was in front of the 'Pull To Open' sign on the door. "Because, actually, been meaning to ask- the- the—the TARDIS is making a strange noise," the man managed, jerking his thumb inside.

River's eyes flickered to the ship's interior, and then back to him, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "The TARDIS is making a strange noise?" She repeated, and Amy could hear the sarcasm dripping from her daughter's voice. She was also quite aware of the other woman's rising temper.

"Yes," he nodded emphatically, "so I'd appreciate it if you'd have a look."

"I'm sorry?" She gave a slight laugh as though he'd said something funny, but her narrowed eyes did not speak of humor. "Is it so important it can't wait? And you're not going to fix it?"

"Well, just saved the Earth- again if you didn't notice. 'Scuse me if I want a break," he scoffed. "And you're always saying _you're_ the better pilot—"

Amy did not feel outraged whatsoever on her friend's behalf when her daughter slapped him, sending him crashing against the closed door. Head held high, River spared her husband not even a second glance as she stepped into the TARDIS. The door slammed behind her.

Of course, Amy felt that really wasn't enough. "Apologize," she ordered, marching right up to him and standing at her full height. The Doctor, who was still rubbing his cheek, pushed himself up off the box.

"She'll be fine," he dismissed, only causing her to scowl.

"Doctor, she's been distraught," Rory tried, and his own fists were clenched. "And you weren't there, but she—"

"John! Er, I mean, Doctor. Sorry," Aaron grinned sheepishly, and Amy tried not to hold it against the boy for interrupting.

"No problem at all," the Doctor reassured with a smile, though it fell off his face just as quick. "Let's see, Aaron—do you mind checking on Donna, Aaron? Just make sure she's comfortable." Amy blinked, having completely forgotten about the unconscious woman currently resting on her couch.

"Yeah, sure thing," the teenager readily agreed, seeming glad to have been given a mission of some sort. Her fellow ginger made his way back to the house, and as Amy watched the Doctor looking about wildly, a thought came to her mind.

"Are you trying to get rid of us?" She questioned, her suspicions only growing when he jumped.

"Sorry?"

"Well, you sent Martha, Mickey, and Jack off with- Gregory, Molly and Ron are over there," she gestured off to the couple, as it seemed she could now classify them, for Ron was swinging Molly around again and again in a hug as the two laughed happily, "you just told Aaron to go back to the house. Seems to me you're dodging us, Doctor." She finished with her arms crossed.

"Oh, that," he replied. When she looked at him expectantly, his eyes widened in the realization that he was supposed to continue. "No, no, course not. I just- needed to talk to you two actually."

"Thought you were sending us off for tea?" Rory reminded, clearly as skeptical as she was.

"Maybe later, but right now, Amy, Rory, we need to talk. That young man Martha is seeing to right now," he waved his arm at the UNIT trailer, "that is Gregory Jenkins."

"Yeah," Amy said, "it looked like him. But how did he—"

"The real Gregory Jenkins, Pond, because the man you got to know was a Nestene Duplicate," the Doctor informed them.

"Oh," was all she could come up with.

"How did I not notice that?" Rory muttered, clearly berating himself so she gave his hand a squeeze.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Pond, not to worry," their friend said, beginning to walk toward the trailer. Amy and Rory followed, ending up one on either side. Perhaps they were both just trying to make sure he was right there. "The Duplicate was how the Nestenes discovered my location as John Smith, and they turned that information over to the Sontarans."

"Sorry," she whispered, ducking her head in shame. "It was my fault."

"Your fault," her best friend repeated, but it was his amused tone that caused her to risk meeting his gaze. "Yes, it was, Pond. It was completely your fault Plastic Gregory saved my life."

"Saved your life!" She echoed, sure she couldn't have heard right. But if his proud smile was anything to go by, she had.

"Correct! You see, you showed him, Amy, you taught him what it truly was to be _human_. Not just a copy, not just plastic, not just a mindless soldier—but a living thing with thoughts and feelings of his own. And he wanted me to tell you he was sorry," he finished solemnly, and Amy- who had been smiling in relief and gratefulness and just a little bit of victory –frowned.

"Why can't he tell me himself?"

"The Nestenes have cut off his telepathic link by now, Amelia," he confessed softly, and she brought a hand to her mouth as her eyes blinked rapidly to ward off tears. "He's just plastic again. I'm sorry."

Not caring that he only seemed capable of rubbish hugs now, Amy flung herself at him, burying her face in his shoulder. After only a brief hesitation, the Doctor wrapped her securely in his arms. They stood like that a moment, her seeking solace in his comforting and warm embrace, and him breathing in and out, slow and controlled. When she pulled back, Rory was there offering his shoulder for her to lean on, and Amy gladly accepted it.

"So why are we here?" Rory asked, and she realized they had stopped at the entrance to the trailer.

"Because inside, since Plastic Gregory's telepathic link has been severed, Human Gregory is about to wake up," the Doctor answered. "He's been unconscious for months—good as a coma, really—and I think I'm right in saying he'll be quite disoriented. Normally, a person whom the Nestenes duplicate remembers nothing of the experience—rare, Roman exceptions aside," he added as her husband opened his mouth. "But, I believe with _your_ help, Ponds…Gregory Jenkins might just be able to. What do you say?"

He studied them both, never judging, but as always they gave the response they knew would make him happy.

"Of course," Amy replied, as if it had never been a question.

"What do we do?" Rory asked.

The Doctor beamed. "Just be your amazing selves!"

"Doctor!" Colonel Mace had emerged from the trailer and seemed quite intent upon speaking with the man. Their friend's grin became a grimace.

"Yes- yes- yes- yes- yes—" he grumbled, at last smacking his forehead like it was an off button. Amy merely raised an amused eyebrow at his odd behavior. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"A full report would be helpful, sir," the officer replied with a salute.

"Don't trouble yourself," the Doctor waved away the gesture. "Though before I give a report, it might be best to tell you that there's an unmanned Command Ship with zero defenses waiting to be taken down. I do know how UNIT loves their explosives these days."

"Yes," the Colonel remarked dryly. "Very well then, sir, I shall have to see about the removal of the Sontaran space craft."

"Have fun, then!" The Doctor told him with a cheery wave as the man headed back to his office. But before the Colonel disappeared he made a sharp about-face.

"I will still be expecting your report, sir."

Amy laughed as her best friend pouted at the man's back. "So then, Gregory Jenkins, yeah?"

He nodded, still put-out by the thought of upcoming work, so Amy shook her head and followed Rory into the trailer. It took the two only a moment to stop and look behind them.

"Aren't you coming?" Rory inquired.

"Me?" He asked, and when they both only stared, he seemed to realize it was in his best interest to give a proper answer. "Well, no, actually—I really should- apologize," the Doctor admitted.

"Good," Amy replied, satisfied at his regret.

"Good luck," Rory offered, and slightly cross with him on their daughter's behalf, Amy dragged him to the medical room of the trailer. They just had to see to Gregory, make sure he was ok and try to get him to remember—she hoped he'd remember. Then they could get back to the Doctor.

OoO

He dropped the sheepish grin as soon as the Ponds looked away. Turning left, though the TARDIS was in the opposite direction, the Doctor made his way onto Amy and Rory's street and began walking, where to he had no idea.

No, he wasn't going to apologize to River. Rule One and all that. He dearly wanted to. The Doctor hadn't even wanted to make her angry in the first place, but he couldn't allow her to get close right now- it had been a close call using the hospital intern as a crutch, and then the hug for Amy. But he could risk it for his little Amelia. At least she'd have that.

His wife, on the other hand, perhaps now would see him as the flawed, selfish old man he really was, and her anger might stave off any pain. He'd rather have River hate him than the alternative. And he'd needed to distract her so she wouldn't notice.

Yes, Pond had been completely accurate in describing his actions; he was sending his friends away, trying to get on his own, because he didn't want them to see this.

The Doctor stumbled on an uneven bit of sidewalk, only just managing to catch himself on one of the neighbor's fences. With everything else that was happening to him, he barely registered the pain from having the wooden posts dig into his side. Struggling to right himself—he was dimly aware of a button from his shirt cuff being caught—he finally ripped away from the quaint human-made border and staggered onward.

Admittedly his original plan had been to make a quick getaway in the TARDIS—have them all think he'd abandoned them for good. It would have been a much cleaner break than this. But he hadn't been able to think of any other way to escape from River.

"Ponds, they never can make anything simple," he groaned to himself, but then was forced to bite down on his fist in order not to scream. But it just hurt- his head—

It was _burning_.

Donna Noble was a brilliant woman- more than she ever gave herself credit. But she wasn't a Chameleon Arch. The Doctor had saved her—properly—from the Metacrisis. There was nothing to save him.

He turned left again, his feet dragging along under him. A dead end, how lovely. It seemed his running was over at last.

This really wasn't going to be big on dignity. He supposed they'd find his body soon enough, but on foot the Doctor was powerless to stop the steady pass of time. The pain was becoming too much for him to bear, and he couldn't seem to control his limbs any longer.

So the Doctor crumpled to the ground, hidden behind a little picket fence on an empty street in the oh so very dull village of Leadworth, and waited to die.

**So…don't be mad? I must commend AliasMarie for pointing out that while I'd returned the Doctor's memories, his body is still human. Very observant! The next chapter will be up sometime this weekend, so keep an eye out! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Ok, so cliffhangers suck, so I'm going to get started right away on this chapter. Thanks again for the reviews!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Nineteen**

"And I think you'd appreciate the space," was the last thing Johnny—the Doctor—said as Molly was steered out the door of the ship. He'd been right in that they were on Earth- in a backyard, it seemed, and the sudden return to peace and normalcy was so jarring that she turned around just to be sure—

"Oh my goodness," she breathed, staring dumbfounded at the little blue box they'd just come from.

"I know," Ron nodded, also looking quite awed even though he seemed to have already known about this.

"But- it's so small!" She couldn't help pointing out.

"Yeah," was his response, and Molly felt her cheeks turn a little pink in embarrassment. It wasn't in her habit to state the obvious- but this was incredible! Very strange, and slightly scary, but there were no awful aliens so—

"Johnny's an alien," she said out loud, partly to test the words, and partly to ask Ron for confirmation.

"Yeah, it's sort of weird. Far as I know, that's what he looks like- I mean, he hasn't got two heads or green skin or something," he told her.

"We're friends with an _alien_."

"I- I guess we are," he replied, and they both just stared at each other. Molly couldn't help the tiny nervous giggle that escaped her—this was just so absurd!—and Ron grinned in response.

"At least that explains all the odd things that kept happening. He's really called the Doctor?" At Ron's nod, Molly felt a sudden regret for not having paid more attention to Aaron Wood's research project. Undoubtedly some of that information would be helpful now. "I know he said he's still our friend—but he's so different!" She shook her head a bit, as though that might rearrange all her scattered thoughts into something that made sense.

"I know what you mean," he agreed sympathetically. "And I lived with him for nearly half a year!"

"It's funny—I always was talking to Johnny, trying to see what was on his mind," Molly confessed, and couldn't help noticing Ron's slightly downcast expression. "But the Doctor- he's just overwhelming, Ron!"

"That's my husband for you."

Molly jumped at the unexpected, yet vaguely familiar voice, turning away from Ron to see a woman leaning comfortably against the wall of the blue box. Only it wasn't any woman…

"You- you're that archeologist!" Molly realized, immediately on alert though it was hardly necessary.

"Yes," the professor-on-her-breaks replied simply, but she could practically see the older woman's laughter about to spill over.

Ron seemed to have picked up on something else from the conversation. "Hang on, you said 'husband'."

"Yes."

A strange, hollow feeling came over Molly. "You're Johnny's wife?" She asked hoarsely.

"No," the woman disagreed for the first time, and then offered them each her hand to shake. "Professor River Song- I'm _the Doctor's_ wife."

It was some small comfort to her that Ron was gaping just as much.

"Oh, I know he can really seem quite the bachelor- but I do thank you both ever so much for taking care of my Sweetie during this whole ordeal," she spoke amiably, seeming unconcerned with their current expressions. "Of course, I can see that you two want to be alone—might I suggest over closer to the trees? Much more private." The smile she gave them was polite and warm, yet Molly thought she saw mischievousness dancing in the light of her eyes.

Ron, equally as red as she, could only stutter syllables in response, so Molly tugged on his arm and lead them away from River Song and the blue box.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed quietly when they were a good distance away.

"Why?"

"Well- I mean, John, you know…" he seemed unable or unwilling to finish his sentence, and Molly sighed.

"Oh Ron, I just feel so foolish. I mean- all this time I thought I liked him, and he turns out to be an alien. A _married_ alien!" She didn't just feel foolish, she felt mortified. How could the Doctor even want to continue their friendship?

"Don't be too hard on yourself. I mean, you didn't know," Ron pointed out, and Molly nodded in acknowledgement of his words.

"Yes, but—I thought maybe I had a chance. I mean look at me, Ron, who honestly wants to date a naïve librarian like Molly Pines?" She was so miserable she at first mistook his silence for an answer, but when she felt his eyes still on him, Molly lifted her face to see him once more red-faced.

"I mean, I- uh…" her friend muttered, almost so low she didn't catch it. When she looked at him enquiringly, Ron took a deep breath. "I think when he said 'crucial conversation' he meant this, so here goes nothing I guess," he explained in a rush, and she nodded for him to go on. "Molly- I, uh, I've liked you…for quite a while. And- and I know, I'm not nearly as smart, or interesting, or—"

But Molly couldn't wait for him to finish. "You really like me?"

"Well- course!" He seemed confused that she had to ask. "I mean, you're nice, and smart, and- and _pretty_, Molly. I've wanted to ask for a while, but it never seemed the right time. But after everything that almost happened, I know I can't wait." He looked at her earnestly, and Molly felt her breath catch in her throat. "Would you like to go out for dinner sometime?"

Absolutely giddy at the wonderful surprise of it all, Molly threw her arms around him for the second time that afternoon. "Yes!" She didn't bother to stop her laughter, for this was one of the best moments of her life. Ron joined in, part in happiness but mostly in relief, before literally lifting her off the ground to spin in a circle a couple times in sheer exuberance. The two friends- and perhaps soon, more –laughed together for a while, until Ron set her down. Molly smiled up at him.

"So you've really liked me for a while?" She asked, just feeling the need to hear it again.

"Yeah," he replied easily, seeming to find it much less difficult to say now.

"Did you really ever read any of those books?" Molly had the sudden thought, now recognizing Ron's constant visits to the library for what they had been. His sheepish look was the only answer she needed, and Molly giggled again.

"I mean, I do read," he protested good-naturedly, and she nodded to appease his wounded pride. It was just all too funny. Everything she'd missed this almost half a year!

"Oh my goodness," she stopped suddenly, looking up sharply at him. "Ron, what are you going to do about your apartment? I mean, the Doctor's not going to live there anymore, is he?"

Ron blinked. "I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess yeah." He seemed a bit saddened by the loss of his flat mate, and Molly reached for his hand to comfort him, ignoring the blush this brought to her cheeks. "Suppose I'll just have to advertise, then."

"I'll help you look," she offered.

"Thanks," he smiled, before a thought seemed to occur to him. "Uh- just don't pick an alien this time, ok? One's enough."

She nodded in agreement, before the two began laughing again. Yesterday, the word alien was hardly even in their vocabulary. And yet now, their best friend was in fact an alien. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

They were walking hand and hand back to the blue box—River Song had vanished, so they felt now might be the best time to check back in with her husband- and that_ definitely_ was going to take some getting used to.

But before they reached it, Ron tensed, having seen something over her head. She turned and spotted Aaron sprinting toward them like his life depended on it. She hadn't even known Aaron was here, wherever here was.

"Help!" He shouted in a panic, skidding to a stop in front of them, and Molly and Ron exchanged shocked and not altogether happy looks. "Please help!" The boy repeated, not seeming to have breath for much else.

"Aaron, calm down, what is it?" She tried, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Is it Donna? Has something happened to her?" Ron guessed, and Molly turned to him in surprise.

"Donna Noble's here, too?"

"Yeah, I mean, she's sort of—"

"No, no, it's not that- Donna's fine," Aaron gasped between deep breaths, his hands braced on his knees. "It- it's the Doctor!"

OoO

River slammed the door with a satisfying bang, stomping up the stairs to the console. She was just so unbelievably angry. That man…she was certainly tempted to fatally wound him this time.

She wasn't an unreasonable woman. River hadn't expected anything of the Doctor beforehand because there was an alien invasion in progress, and she prided herself for being a professional. Sure, the archeologist tended to mix some flirtation with business, but she had some self-control.

And yet, ever since the Doctor had showed up at the Library—that younger, not-quite-him—he'd done nothing but bruise and beat up her heart. The only thing that kept it from breaking was her parents.

Perhaps she had come across as too menacing, but was he honestly frightened of her? Despairing, and feeling a mix of anger and disappointment, River dropped into the pilot's chair, content to sit there and force herself not to cry.

Yes she'd been fully intending to lecture him on the incredibly idiotic sacrifice he'd made at the start of this whole ordeal- but River Song had also been planning to thank her husband quite enthusiastically for saving her. And she knew he knew it.

So why had the Doctor simply brushed her off, like none of that meant anything? Did _they_ not mean anything to him?

The TARDIS gave a sympathetic hum to her miserable thoughts, and River managed a smile for the beloved ship. A strange noise from the TARDIS, honestly…

River sat bolt upright in her chair, completely silent, and listened. The only noises were the quiet, constant hum from the ship, and her own breathing. There was no strange noise. He'd lied.

Still it hardly mattered. Rule number one, right? But she couldn't stop herself from wondering—why had the Doctor lied?

Decided upon seeking an answer, no matter how she had to get it from the man, River strode from the TARDIS. Not seeing her husband in the immediate area, she made for the UNIT trailer first. If he wasn't there, she could at least see if Martha had any ideas on why the Doctor was avoiding her. She figured if anyone could sympathize, it would be the human doctor. Though Jack wasn't that bad an option, either.

But when she found Martha, she also found her parents, sitting and chatting with the sickly-thin Gregory Jenkins. And that made River's blood run cold.

Because that meant the Doctor was alone. Why had he needed to be alone? What was he _doing_?

"Mum?"

Amy turned from the chair she was occupying, and an easy smile lit her face. "Hey, River, you two make up then?"

"I'm sorry?" She replied, feeling quite out of the loop, and yet ever more worried.

"The Doctor, he apologized, yeah? That's where he went," the Scottish woman explained, raising her eyebrows when River didn't reply. She was too busy trying to stay calm.

"He didn't," she managed.

"What?" Rory asked, half in confusion, and half in outrage. Amy, however, seemed to pick up on her agitated state.

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, and that scared her more than ever.

OoO

Aaron had walked back into the Ponds' sitting room where they had placed Donna Noble, and he adjusted the pillow under her head, just to make certain she was alright. Yeah, watching an unconscious lady was boring, but this was the woman who had brought the Doctor back—she would most definitely be going in his school report.

He'd made a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, when something passed by the window. Blocked by a curtain, Aaron was unable to be certain, but it looked like a person. He was almost positive it was a person.

So, exiting out the back again, he looked around. Molly Pines and Ron Sherwood seemed to be solely preoccupied with each other, so nothing there to help him. The curly haired woman who could also fly the TARDIS- and who the Doctor seemed particularly fond of in an exasperated sort of way –was just leaving the space ship in a fury and cutting a straight path the giant UNIT trailer, which was a secret government organization of beret-wearers. Aaron decided it was best not to cross her.

At any rate, whatever had passed by the kitchen window had been going out toward the front of the house. So he continued his investigation out there. At first nothing seemed out of place, until—

A flash of light color against dark brown. Aaron walked up to the wooden fence, reaching in with his fingers and working to get the object free.

It was a button. A simple button off a shirt. His shoulders slumped in disappointment, and Aaron almost threw the thing away. But then he realized…there were still some thread attached, meaning the button had come off by force. And hadn't he seen buttons exactly like these somewhere?

On John Smith's shirt.

Feeling hurried by a sudden sense of urgency, Aaron's feet picked up the pace, and he jogged down the rest of the little street, turned the corner and—

"What the—" Words honestly failed him at the sight. The Doctor was lying in a heap on the sidewalk, his eyes screwed shut and his breathing harsh and shallow. "Oh my- oh my God," Aaron said, getting down on his knees beside the man. "Doctor? John?" He tried each name to no avail, as he seemed either unable or unwilling to reply. Not sure if he should risk touching the man, who was obviously in pain, Aaron could only hover around him in a panic. "What do I do?" He cried desperately.

Help. He needed help. The teenager stumbled onto his feet, backing away and feeling wretched for just leaving the man. "I'll be right back, I'm just- just going for—help!"

He tore back down the street and into the backyard, spotting Ron and Molly, the only occupants. The two looked rather bewildered at his frantic behavior, but Aaron couldn't be bothered with composure at the moment.

"Help! Please help!" They had to, they had to know what to do, because he needed someone to know what to do.

"Aaron, calm down, what is it?" Molly asked, much too calm for the occasion. But she wasn't aware of the crisis they were in.

Before he could answer, Ron asked his own questions. "Is it Donna? Has something happened to her?"

"Donna Noble's here, too?" Molly asked her friend.

"Yeah, I mean, she's sort of—" He didn't have time for these distractions!

"No, no, it's not that- Donna's fine," he reassured. Aaron found it difficult to say the next words. "It- it's the Doctor!"

Ron and Molly looked stunned at this revelation. "What do you mean?" Molly spoke at last. "I thought he was still in the ship."

"Well he's not, and I think he's hurt, so come on!" Aaron urged, but unfortunately the two seemed even more shocked by his words.

"Hurt how?" Ron questioned.

Aaron, frustrated that they weren't doing as he wanted of them, and terrified by the image of the Doctor collapsed on the ground, burst out, "I don't know!"

"Then show us where he is," a woman's voice commanded, and all three of them turned to see several of the Doctor's friends striding across the lawn toward them.

OoO

Amy and Rory found the medical room in the trailer easy enough, and Martha smiled when they entered. "This is a surprise, thought you two wouldn't leave his side for anything," she remarked, only slightly teasing.

"He's talking to River right now," she said, as if that explained everything. Amy met the other woman's eyes, and each had to stifle giggles behind their hands. Rory was looking between the two in slight confusion, but in Amy's opinion, it was really just paternal denial.

"Why is that so funny? They are just talking, right?" He almost made to leave, but Amy snagged his arm and tugged him over to their objective.

"Leave them alone," she chided, before looking down at the young man in the cot. Gregory Jenkins, a UNIT soldier she knew quite well, but who had never met her. Well, she was going to change that. "How is he?"

"No injuries, I'm just waiting for him to wake up, really," the doctor confessed.

"The Doctor said that it'd be soon," Rory informed her, and Amy sat down, trying not to think of the Nestene Duplicate's sacrifice.

Almost as if in response to those words, the soldier began stirring slightly, mumbling nonsense. Then his eyes snapped open, and Gregory looked around.

"Hey," she said quietly, and saw his eyes flicker over to her. They didn't register any emotion other than surprise and slight puzzlement. She wouldn't let that discourage her. "You're in a UNIT sort-of-hospital, and you're going to be fine." Amy offered a smile, and patted the seat next to her for her husband to take. Rory did so.

"Um…how are you feeling?"

"A bit thirsty," the patient replied.

"Sort of expected that, so I had this ready," Martha said, coming around to the other side of the bed with a cup of water. Poor Gregory seemed barely able to lift his head, and Amy watched the doctor prop him up and hold the cup to his lips, letting him take little sips.

"Why do I feel so weak?"

"The Sontarans had you captive on their ship for almost half a year," Martha told him, and Amy saw the look of disbelief on his face.

"I'd say you're doing pretty good all things considered," she pointed out.

"Thank you, ma'am," the soldier replied, and she couldn't stop the smile that came to her face. "But half a year…" he trailed off, clearly upset at the thought.

"It's a weird feeling, I know," Rory said in commiseration. Amy noticed, however, that Gregory was staring at her.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, it's just…I feel like I should know you from somewhere. But I don't, do I?"

"Ok, this might seem a little weird," Amy said, glancing at Rory for support before continuing. "You sort of do. Just…think, Gregory."

"I am," he said, his mouth pulled into a frown as he concentrated. "It's just- it's like I've seen you—all of you, in a dream or something. But I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Rory admitted.

"No, but the Doctor said that Plastic Gregory _became_ human sort of, yeah?" Amy tried to articulate. "So, what's something that humans have that plastic doesn't?"

"There's a lot, actually," her husband informed her, "I would know." Amy rolled her eyes, but Martha at least seemed to get it as she gave a gasp.

"Of course, his memories! That's amazing, Amy," the UNIT doctor praised, and she allowed herself a smug smirk.

"Amy…" Gregory repeated. "You're Amy!"

"Right in one, good job, Gregory!" She cheered, grinning at him.

"Do you remember me?" Rory asked curiously.

"You're Amy's husband."

"Close enough," her husband said, collapsing back against his chair. Amy had to stop herself from laughing so as not to further wound his ego.

"I'm really sorry—"

"Oh, shut it," she spoke over the soldier, "no harm done, anyway. The important thing is that you remember. So, nice to finally meet you, Gregory."

He offered a wan smile in return. "The same to you, ma'am."

"Mum?" River interrupted from the doorway, and Amy smiled at her daughter in greeting.

"Hey, River, you two make up then?" That had been awful quick.

Her daughter seemed not to understand the question, or she was just a very good actress. "I'm sorry?"

"The Doctor, he apologized, yeah? That's where he went," she decided to spell it out. Honestly, she wasn't going to just ignore or balk at her daughter's relationship like Rory sometimes did. Amy was perfectly willing to except the idea that River was married, and all the implications that went with it. She felt her eyebrows rise at the other woman's prolonged silence.

"He didn't."

At least Amy wasn't the only one who seemed baffled. Martha was looking in between the mother-and-daughter pair, clearly trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

"What?" Rory spoke up, clearly upset on his daughter's behalf, but now was not the time for Righteous Daddy Roman Fury.

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know," the curly-headed woman replied. Before anyone could say anything, however, both Mickey and Jack appeared in the doorway behind the archeologist.

"How's everything going?" Mickey asked his wife.

"Um, the patient's fine," Martha blinked, gathering her thoughts. A quick look told Amy that Gregory had fallen back asleep. She was sure he'd be doing a lot of that until he got his strength back up.

"The Colonel's looking for the Doc. Something about a report?" Jack told them, eyes searching the room for the missing man.

"He's not here," River replied.

"Ok, so back to the TARDIS, then?" Mickey suggested, frowning when River shook her head.

"The Colonel said he saw him with you two," Jack pointed out, gesturing at the Ponds.

"He said he was going back to the TARDIS," Rory defended, rising to his feet. Amy, on the other hand, couldn't seem to get her legs to move.

"He really was trying to get rid of us," she whispered, and wanted to smack something- because she should have listened to her instincts. She'd been right all along.

So where was the Doctor now?

"The quicker we start looking for him, the better," Martha reasoned, and nodding in agreement, the group made their way out of the trailer. The only thing that was keeping her going was Rory's warm, reassuring hand in hers.

It was like an awful nightmare. Why was this happening again? How could he just _vanish_ like that, without so much as a by-your-leave- not to mention a goodbye?

But when they emerged onto the Ponds' back lawn, they were surprised to find Aaron shouting at Ron and Molly in a panic.

"—he's hurt, so come on!"

The breath whooshed from her lungs as she stopped, watching the other two mirror her shocked expression.

"Hurt how?"

"I don't know?"

"Then show us where he is," River spoke, and she seemed the picture of collected. But Amy could see every line of the woman's body tense, every muscle tight, her knuckles on her hand bone-white from her clenched fists.

The look on the teenager's face seemed a cross between fear and relief, and he eagerly led the way onto the front sidewalk, half-walking and half-jogging. It was a normal street in Leadworth. What could possibly happen here?

She deeply regretted these thoughts.

**Sorry, but I'm stopping here again. But Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, that was a good one! I love Brian (Rory's dad), and the line about the Doctor still having a Christmas list nearly killed me with laughter. So tell me what your favorite part was, and how you felt about this chapter in a review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Ok, now that everything's caught up I can continue with the story in real time. Last chapter was more about tying up some plot points, and getting everybody where they need to be. Thanks for hanging out on the cliff guys, I know it was difficult, and I appreciate it all the more! Also thanks for the many reviews, favorites, follows, and whatnot so far.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Twenty**

She couldn't even keep track of the various gasps or horrified shouts, not even sure how to differentiate her own from the group assembled. Instead, she found herself watching numbly as River dropped to her knees beside her husband.

"Doctor," she murmured, and this seemed to snap the rest into action. Amy threw herself down next to her daughter, Rory following a split second after, while Martha came around to the other side. Mickey came up behind her, clearly there in case she needed his support.

"I found him like this, I- I didn't know what to do, and—" Aaron was struggling to explain, but Jack placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You did the right thing," he told the teenager. "Let Martha see to him first."

Almost reluctantly, River pulled back so the UNIT doctor could see the man properly. Of course, this allowed Amy to also get an up close inspection as well.

If he had been slightly off-color before, the Doctor was now deathly pale. His eyes were shut- not in sleep, but as if he was trying to block out a tremendous pain. And yet he was still curled up, almost in fetal position, as shudders wracked his body. His breaths were shallow, ragged, and sporadic, as every few seconds he would clench his jaw shut in an attempt to stop the sound of obvious pain from escaping. When Martha placed the back of her palm ever so slightly on his forehead, brushing back his fringe with the tips of her other fingers, their friend was unable to contain a tiny whimper.

"Oh my God," Martha breathed. "He's burning up!"

"Ok," Rory said, obviously letting his professional side take over. "So elevated temperature, any sign of bruising or injury or—"

The Doctor made a few muffled sounds, and Amy held an arm out to stop her husband's questioning.

"What was that?" She asked, but her Raggedy Man said not a word. Slowly, gingerly, Amy reached for the man's hand, trying not to squeeze too tightly, but applying enough pressure that she was sure he had to feel it. "Doctor, please—what is it? You got to tell us." He barely moved, but it was to shake his head. "We can't help you until you tell us what's wrong," she pointed out crossly.

His only response was something almost between a groan and a snarl, and Amy was forcibly reminded of that terrible day in Berlin so very like this. But this was worse, because he wasn't fighting back. Why wasn't he fighting back?

"She's trying to help you, mate." It was Ron who said it, an arm wrapped around Molly's shoulders as they both stared with wide eyes at their fallen friend. "I mean, just help her help you."

"Please," Molly begged. And that was it. He suddenly tensed, the words seemingly giving him pause. Amy seized on that moment.

Leaning forward to speak directly in his ear, Amy urged him, "Help us, Doctor."

One old, tired eye cracked open, and the mad man's chin trembled once, twice, before he opened his mouth and took a large gulp of air. Pushing that breath out through clenched teeth, the Doctor braced a shaking hand on the pavement and raised himself mere inches from the ground. His eyes were fixed on the fence.

River, apparently realizing his goal, propped him up as he half-crawled, half-dragged himself forward, and helped to turn him over. The end result was the Doctor leaning his back against the lower half of the fence, watching them with eyes still clouded over with pain.

The effort appeared to have cost him, for he was panting slightly and a tremor would pass through him. "Oh…this is not how I wanted this…to go," he finally spoke, his eyes wandering over each of their faces.

"What do you mean, 'this'?" Amy couldn't stop from asking. "You said you were fine earlier," she reminded, with a slight accusation to her voice. He smiled ruefully, his head rolling over to look at her.

"Oh, Pond," he chided, "I was fine. I was better than fine, actually. I was brilliant." The slight laugh he gave was short and almost seemed bitter. "I—John Smith—had reached my full potential as a human being."

"What do you mean?" Rory asked in confusion, voicing everyone else's thoughts. "You're the Doctor now, not John Smith."

"What do you say, Dr. Jones?" The Doctor offered, and Amy scowled at his apparent deflection. "Want to have another go?" He struggled with the effort to gesture vaguely at his chest, not seeming to have near enough energy, the significance of this she did not understand.

Martha, however, slowly brought her ear to rest against his chest, first on one side, than the other. But the second time was much shorter, as she pulled back in alarm. "But- that can't—it's not possible!" Reaching first for his wrist and then his neck, Amy watched as the other woman took the Doctor's pulse twice. "I can only find one heartbeat," she murmured aloud, obviously stunned. Rory checked as well, nodding to confirm her findings.

"But, that's not right," Mickey said, shaking his head, "he's got to have two."

"Doc, what is happening?" Jack asked, in a tone not to be trifled with.

"I'm burning up…from the inside out."

River took in a shaky breath, trying to work past a lump in her throat.

"Why?" Amy demanded.

"Amy…what did I say in the video?" He prompted. "Ahhh-a Time Lord consciousness…is too much for a human mind."

"He got his memories back from Donna…from the Metacrisis. He transferred the Metacrisis into himself." Her daughter revealed.

"You're dying," she simplified it, feeling the familiar sting of tears in her eyes.

"Yes," he agreed softly, "I'm dying."

"But then," Aaron blurted, "can't you just change your face? You've nearly died before, and it doesn't stop you!"

"I made myself human, Aaron," the Doctor said. "Humans, don't regenerate. Count yourselves lucky," he remarked. "So you might want to be taking notes, Wood…because this is the last conversation the Doctor is ever going to have."

"What about the Arch?" Amy suggested suddenly, feeling some hope flare up inside her. "The Chameleon Arch- that could turn you back into a Time Lord, yeah?"

But her friend did not share in her excitement. "No, Pond, it can't."

"Why not?" She asked in frustration. How was that fair?

"To change the settings on the Arch, he would need data, or samples of the desired species," River explained. "And there are no more Time Lords."

"River Song…so very brilliant," he praised with a warm smile. She returned it as best she could, though her eyes were brimming with tears.

"If I'm so brilliant," the archeologist said, "why didn't you just tell me?" It wasn't angry or hurt or even exasperated, the question was simply resigned.

"I couldn't do it," he confessed. "I didn't think I'd be able to bear it, the look on your face…on all your faces, right now." Amy felt the hand she was holding rise slowly, painstakingly, and use the back of her palm to wipe her cheeks- which were wet with tears, ones she hadn't even noticed she'd shed. "Amy Pond…crying over me, eh? Please don't cry, Pond…my little Amelia. You've so much more to care for than your imaginary friend, now."

Even as she held onto Rory for all she was worth with her other hand, Amy forcefully shook her head. "Stop it," she ordered, her voice sounding thick to her ears, and it hurt almost to talk. "I'll care about you if I want to."

"Have I ever told you you're so very Scottish?" He inquired with a slight quirk of his lips, and Amy chuckled weakly. "There's a smile," he said in a satisfied way, his eyes drifting closed. For one terrified moment she thought that was it.

"Doctor?" She asked in a hushed voice, not sure why she was afraid of raising her volume.

"Take care of each other, Ponds," he mumbled with his eyes still closed, and his chest rose and fell. Amy felt herself relax ever so slightly.

"I suppose you're including me in that as well?" River asked, and she could hear the control her daughter was applying to her voice to keep it strong. "Are you really expecting that to be enough?"

"I'm expecting it to be better for you, Melody," he just managed to blink one eye open to study her with.

"That's not my name these days," she reminded him, slightly chastising.

"I know," he said sadly, "and that's the real tragedy. River, you've wasted your life on me. And I'm so, so sorry for being so selfish," he'd opened both eyes now, and the guilt he was expressing in his words shone in them. Pushing his arms against the fence, the Doctor leaned forward as if to convey the imperativeness of his words. His breath became more ragged as a result of the exertion. "You've always deserved so much better than me—your rubbish husband, and—"

"Hush, Sweetie," River whispered, gently coercing him back against the wooden posts of the fence. "Don't push yourself," she ran one hand across his forehead and through his hair—partly, Amy suspected, to check his temperature—the other hand softly cupping his face. "None of that matters to me, my love."

"Still," he muttered in protest, even as he leaned unresisting into her caress, "I'd completely understand if—whatever brings you happiness, dear."

She thought she heard Molly give a stifled sob into Ron's side, clearly deeply moved by the scene before them. The sandy-haired man held her as she cried. Aaron, it appeared, was not taking notes, and kept rubbing at his eyes with his fists.

"There's no need to worry about that," River disagreed, shaking her head so her curls swayed left and right. "As a wise woman once said, you're a tough act to follow."

He laughed softly, before wincing in pain, and Amy gave the hand she still had a comforting squeeze. "Always too generous, my Sarah Jane," the Doctor murmured, "I can think of loads. Most of them are dead. And I know I said- but I'm sure you and Jack have gotten on well—and I wouldn't really mind—"

"Is it truly so hard to believe that I love you, Doctor?" Her daughter asked as she brushed a thumb tenderly over his cheekbone. He was incapable of stopping the blissful sigh this produced.

The American had by this time crouched down to their level. "For the record, Doc, I'm flattered you think I'm so irresistible." He grinned teasingly, but Amy could still see the sorrow in his eyes. "I'm not going to lie, living forever kind of sucks," the Captain admitted. "Knowing everybody you meet is going to die around you. I'd thought I could at least count on you to be there when I finally reach the end of it all."

"I wouldn't worry," the Doctor responded with a comforting smile. In the next instant, his face was contorted in pain and, with a sharp gasp, he wrenched his hand from Amy's grasp to bring it up to his temples. River jerked back in alarm at the sudden movement, her hands falling away from him.

"We should move you," Mickey fretted. "A sidewalk- it's just not right."

"Good a place as any," the Doctor managed through his teeth. The brief flare of what Amy felt could only be torture passed, leaving him winded and struggling for air.

"What can we do to make you more comfortable?" Martha asked, and she tried not to think about how that goal—making him comfortable before the end—was entirely too much like giving up.

"None of you were supposed to be here for this," he wheezed, pausing to take a gulp of air. "But, now that you are…stay?" It was a broken plea, like he felt it was too much to ask for, and yet he was doing it anyway, his eyes pressed shut as if afraid to look.

"We're not leaving you," the UNIT doctor reassured, leaning heavily against her husband as he sank down to their level on the ground.

"Is that all we can do for you?" Rory asked, and she saw his wretched expression, clearly upset that there wasn't anything they could do to help the Doctor. "Aren't you in pain?"

"I hardly matter right now, Mr. Pond, I said look after each other."

"Yeah, I know," her husband agreed. "You told 'the Ponds' to look after each other. Well you're one of them."

The Doctor's eyes actually flew open at that pronouncement, the baffled look on his face almost comical if not for the situation. "Me?"

"Of course," Amy managed, trying her best to sound confident and under control, when she was so very close to going to pieces. She grabbed Rory and River's hands, and placed all three overtop one of his. "You were right, Raggedy Man," she told him. "I don't need an imaginary friend anymore—cause I've got a family."

And the Doctor's ancient eyes—always so full of every type of joy and grief, love and hurt, life and death, and everything the universe had to offer in between—could not contain the tears that rolled down his young face.

"Magnificent Ponds…" the Doctor breathed almost reverently. His eyes slid shut one final time. "I think this might be contentment." His chest rose slightly, and with this little bit of air he whispered, "Gotcha."

Even though the dull background noise of Leadworth continued around them, it seemed more silent than a tomb.

"Doctor," She tried hesitantly. Her best friend made no indication that he heard, and Amy tightened the hold her hand had over his. There wasn't even a twitch of his fingers in reflexive response. "Doctor?" Amy's free hand went to her mouth as a sob shook her. Rory and River were close on either side, but she couldn't seem to tear her gaze from his peaceful, still face. "Oh Doctor," she whispered, finally shutting her eyes against the awful sight before her.

"Oi!" The sharp exclamation caused Amy and the others to give a start. What was even more startling was the Doctor's eyes popping open as he too gave a jolt. "Watch it, Spaceman," Donna Noble, fully conscious, towered over them all with one hand on her hip, "cause you're not dying on me!"

"Right…yes…Donna," he managed once he'd stopped simply gaping up at the woman. "Thought something wasn't quite right here. Well then, goodbye, Donna." It seemed an incredibly hasty farewell to Amy, and she felt something was a bit off. Apparently, her fellow ginger female thought so, too, for Donna waded her way through the people, finally coming to a stop in front of him.

"Listen up, Sunshine!" She bellowed, and the Doctor winced again. "You took my memories and left me at home—but you saved my life and fixed it, so I'll let you off the hook, got it?"

"How very generous of you," he muttered, but looked rather regretful of his words as the temp glowered at him.

"That's enough out of you, thanks. Bad enough you're scaring everybody here half to death!"

"What are you talking about?" Amy finally snapped, very cross with this woman who was barging in and yelling. Sure, they were some of her favorite past times, but this was absolutely the worst moment for it.

"The Doctor, he's dying," Donna reiterated, turning to Amy. But the weirdest thing was the almost-smile on the other woman's face. "But he doesn't have to."

"He doesn't?" Rory asked, voicing the confusion that everyone else was feeling.

"No, you can't do it," the Doctor spoke before Donna could reply, making his voice as firm as possible- which was still pretty feeble, really. When Donna rolled her eyes he managed a scowl. "I mean it- it's too risky."

"Who cares about risk, this is about saving your life!" Jack pointed out, clearly as incredulous as everyone else as to why he was being so adamant.

"It's just a theory—" he began wearily, but Donna scoffed.

"A theory that came from _your_ head. I may not be able to sense the turn of the Earth or see all the different time streams side by side anymore," she declared, "But I'm the bloody DoctorDonna, so listen up!"

"Yes, ma'am," Mickey responded with a salute, and Martha gave him a slightly playful shove.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked eagerly. Like the UNIT doctor, Amy could feel her excitement rising. _This_ was what she needed right now. No tears, just pure adrenaline from working, striving, running towards a goal. The greatest of goals.

"No plan," the Doctor groaned, clearly upset by this turn of events. Why was he so bloody stubborn all the time?

"Sweetie, I love you," River repeated, before adding, "But please shut up."

"Do you love him?" Donna asked, almost as if it were a test, and she suspected everything hinged on this one question. "I mean _really_ love him?"

If her daughter was offended by the implication of doubt, she didn't show it. "Yes," River answered simply. "Always and completely."

"Did you hear that?" The Chiswick temp demanded in a louder voice, the question obviously directed at the Doctor this time. His eyes were forcibly shut again, and though his breaths were coming in slight hitches, his head bobbed up and down once in the affirmative. "And what- you were going to die without even giving her a chance to choose?"

"Choose what?" Amy finally shouted, thoroughly annoyed by all this beating around the bush. Where they going to do something or not?

"The Chameleon Arch needs a sample- a template," Donna described, "Otherwise it won't reprogram the person properly. The formatting would be off."

"But there's no samples of Time Lord left in the universe," Martha despaired, "You'd need DNA or- or—"

"That's brilliant," River whispered suddenly, staring at something only she could see. Whatever Donna was driving at, she had gotten it. Looking around at all their puzzled faces, the professor elaborated. "I was conceived in the Time Vortex—"

"I'm guessing that's why couples usually aren't allowed," Jack muttered, causing both Amy and Rory to turn crimson. River smoothly continued, a tiny smirk the only acknowledgement she gave to the man's words.

"Yes, I'm the biological daughter of Amy and Rory. But there's more, I'm—"

"Human plus Time Lord," she finished, recalling the words the Doctor himself had used long ago to define the phenomenon.

"So we'd use River's Time Lord DNA—" Rory started, but their incredibly obstinate friend was shaking his head in disagreement. "Why not?" Her husband inquired, quite irritated.

"Would hurt…River. Won't let you," he ground out, and Amy almost wanted to point out the ridiculous notion of him letting or not letting anyone do anything they pleased with the state he was in.

"So first I can't have a job and now I can't make my own decisions?" The archeologist quipped, before she became more serious. "I know the Arch will hurt, that's my choice. But don't you think for one second, that watching you suffer right now hurts any less." She rose to her feet and nodded once at Donna. "We're going to set up the wiring. You all need to get him to the TARDIS."

River and Donna ran for the backyard. Martha stood quickly as well.

"I'm going to prepare the med room for two more patients," she informed them. "I'll be there when you wake up, just like last time," the female doctor told the hurting man soothingly, and hurried off.

"What should we do?" Ron asked, clearly indicating himself, Molly, and Aaron.

"Wait with the rest of us," Mickey instructed as he too got to his feet. "I have to tell Colonel Mace to hold off on that report, though, so I'll be back."

"How should we move him?" Amy asked the remaining people. "He can't walk."

"You're right," Jack replied slowly, before a mischievous grin stole over his features. "Guess this is up to me." And before she could blink, the Captain had swept the Doctor up into his arms, bridal style. "Can't say I haven't thought about this before," the man admitted unashamedly.

The Doctor, who had gone wide-eyed with a yelp of surprise and protest when the American had wrapped his arms snugly about him, now could only seem to stammer his misgivings about the whole situation.

"How much is this going to hurt them?" Amy turned her head to see Molly staring earnestly at her.

Managing to swallow, though her mouth had gone dry with the thought of what was to come, Amy said, "A lot. You don't have to come."

"We're coming," Aaron said determinedly, and she offered him a little smile.

"Thanks."

Taking Rory's hand, she rushed back to the TARDIS. The Chameleon Arch had been lowered down from the ceiling, and Donna had attached what she likened to electrodes to River's temples. The headset itself was hovering over the empty pilot's chair.

"Have you moved him yet?" Their daughter asked, clearly concerned at not seeing her husband. Amy and Rory exchanged glances.

"Well…"

"Over the threshold, you and me, Doc," Jack announced playfully, and both River and Donna raised their eyebrows.

"Figures," the redheaded woman muttered. River, at least, seemed to find her spouse's predicament amusing. The Doctor just groaned. The American slowly ascended the steps to the console, taking great pains not to jostle his precious cargo, and carefully lowered the man into the chair.

The Doctor's head lolled to the side, but Donna tilted it upright again as she fastened the headset to him. "It's going to hurt, but I know you can do this," the woman spoke to him confidently, before indicating River with a nod of her head. "And so can she."

"Please don't," he begged pitifully. Donna merely shook her head as she backed away.

"I'm sorry, my love," River said, refusing to back down. "But trust me?"

His eyes opened blearily one more time and locked gazes with hers. "Always."

"Then I'll be there when you wake up." The TARDIS itself gave a supporting hum, and the Doctor drew in a shaky breath, seeming to gather the strength he needed.

"Yes, dear."

Donna pulled a lever on the control panel. And though Rory had pulled her into his arms, Amy still keenly heard and felt each of their tortured screams.

**Good stopping point there, I think. Are you all a bit happier now? Not the most cheerful of chapters, but now we've moved past that, so things will definitely be looking up next update. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry about the delay in updating, but I've been a bit tired lately- which is not a good time for me to type. I'm glad you guys liked the save! Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites, and the C2. I've greatly enjoyed receiving all your feedback and hearing from you!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Twenty-one**

He didn't understand it, this strange feeling of lightness and peace. There was this incessant nagging sensation, like he should be thinking or doing something, but for some reason his mind seemed perfectly content to stay blank and free from worry. Even as his senses began awakening, the Doctor was still at ease.

His nerve endings were telling him he was lying in an unfamiliar bed, and the scent of antiseptics led him to further conclude it was in a hospital of some sort. He wasn't such a huge fan of hospitals- or rather, when he was a patient in a hospital. He had nothing personal against such institutions any other time, just when they were talking about him and poking at him with their machines and—

Muffled noises through a doorway made him realize he was in a private room. What in the universe had he done this time?

And yet, as soon as the Doctor made these inquiries in his head, they faded to the background of his mind just as quickly. He was a bit concerned with the state of his mental faculties—he seemed to recall what felt like hours of electrical shocks to his brain—when he quite suddenly made the connection.

The Doctor felt his scattered thoughts had less to do with him, and more to do with the warm, soft, and very familiar weight curled up against him. He couldn't really blame his brain for ignoring the messages being sent that indicated clues as to his location, and instead telling his body to focus more on trying to get closer to that warmth. And it wasn't his nose's fault—far superior olfactory nerves aside—that the bland smells of the hospital were quickly being overpowered by the intoxicating aroma of a certain heady perfume. His ears truly were doing their best to hear what was going on in the world outside his room, but they couldn't help that the boring droning sounds of everyday life were being drowned out by slow, even breathing that would every so often give way to a happy, sleepy hum as the cozy, curvy weight shifted just so…

A light, fluffy something that smelled deliciously of the aforementioned perfume, and something even a bit more, tickled right under his nose, and the Doctor finally risked cracking a single eye open. His eyesight helped him no further with his more practical investigation, for as he peered down he was blinded by the breathtaking sight of a heavenly cloud of golden curls.

"River," he breathed softly in wonderment, instinctively winding his arms around her slumbering form. His voice, quiet as it had been, seemed to be sufficient enough to rouse her. Her head lifted from its resting place on his chest and mesmerizing eyes blinked sleepily at him.

"Hm?"

"River," the Doctor repeated, perhaps with greater awe than the first one, his lips parted in an open smile.

"Good morning, Sweetie," a lazy smile lit her entire face with a warm glow, and he briefly contemplated how she could manage to look so incredibly lovely without the slightest effort. Then of course, he managed to actually register what she said.

"It's morning already?" He exclaimed in surprise, attempting to consult his watch. There were two problems with this course of action. The first being that he wasn't wearing a watch—he was really underprepared these days!—and the second was that the range of motion in his one arm was severely limited. The Doctor stared dumbly at the metal band encircling his wrist, connected with smaller hoops in a line to the steel railing on the side of the bed.

"Yes," River was saying in answer to his question, seeming unperturbed by his restraints—though, with the help of the Pond women, the contraptions featured so prominently in his life lately they were almost an accessory. "And I woke up yesterday. There was a moment we were quite worried- you sleeping for almost forty-eight hours is a bit unusual, but Martha thought you might have just placed yourself in a healing coma."

"So you decided to just go ahead and handcuff me to my bed?" He asked, near incredulous, waving his wrist with a jangle of the chains as an emphasis.

"Amy's idea," River told him, though he strongly suspected it was more a collaboration between the mother and daughter. "Wouldn't be the first time you tried to escape a UNIT hospital, Sweetie." She smirked a little as she reminded him, and he realized that she must have read about that particular gem in the military organization's records. "At any rate—we need to talk, Doctor."

He couldn't help but frown at this unpleasant turn of events, and felt perhaps Amy and River had been justified; he very much wanted to run away right now. His wife sat up fully, stretching her arms over her head. The Doctor took this pause to notice that not only was he missing a watch, someone had dressed him in simple blue and white striped night clothes. River herself was wearing one of her more modest nighties. Which was good, he supposed, if they were going to have this serious conversation. This was going to be difficult enough without River being all…distract-y.

Shuffling backwards to sit up against the pillows, he regarded her seriously. "Yes, we do."

Nodding in a satisfied way, River began with the opening statement, "The Library."

"The Library," he agreed, recognizing it as the best starting point.

"You shouldn't have done that," she reprimanded firmly, stopping his opening mouth with a raised finger. "Just _think_ for one moment. All those planets and people you save- the universe needs you, Doctor. How could you ever think throwing that all away for me was even remotely a good idea?"

"Is it truly so hard for you to believe that I love you, River Song?" He echoed her words from—blimey—two days previous. She ducked her head, and so he reached out with his free hand to entwine his fingers with hers, causing her eyes to meet his again. "Planets and people," he scoffed, "How could any of that matter to me without you?"

She was shaking her head in amazement. "I've absolutely ruined you."

"Afraid so," he responded bluntly, and she shook her head with a chuckle this time.

"I hate you," River said, and he could tell she really was trying to be cross with him.

But the Doctor only grinned. "No you don't."

The moment was shattered, as it often seemed to be, by a brash Scottish voice. "River, you're supposed to be telling him off, not holding hands." He looked up to see none other than Amy Pond standing in the doorway, a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face. And she wasn't alone, as he could see Rory, Martha, Donna, Jack, and Mickey behind her in the hallway of the UNIT trailer.

He couldn't keep the grimace from his face. This was going to be a tricky one.

OoO

Amy rolled her eyes at the Time Lord's almost pained expression. "Oh lighten up, we're not that bad," she scolded, and he merely heaved a long-suffering sigh, gesturing for them to enter fully. Not like he had much choice, but it was polite of him at the least. Walking into the room, Amy chose to take a seat on the side of the bed rather than a chair.

"Oh sure, Pond, have a seat," the Doctor remarked, but she could see the spark of amusement in his eyes, and merely grinned smugly. "And thanks, by the way, for these," he added rattling the chain of the handcuffs. Glancing behind her, Amy saw that Martha was still eyeing the thing skeptically; it had taken her no small amount of effort to convince the UNIT doctor such a precaution was necessary.

"Well, maybe if you didn't run off to try and die all the time I wouldn't need them," she countered, and he did have the grace to look just a little sheepish. "How're you feeling?" Amy asked, but before he could open his mouth to reply, she held up a warning finger. "And don't lie this time, Raggedy Man."

"I am fine," he said resolutely, and frowned when both Pond women, sitting as they were side by side, merely looked at him. "Oh, alright," he gave in eventually, holding his wrist out to Rory's waiting hands. The intern took the alien's pulse. "Well, Mr. Pond?"

"Steady double pulse," her husband confirmed, then moved on in his examination, checking the Time Lord's temperature, shining a light into his eyes, and even making their friend open his mouth up to be scrutinized. Martha followed right after, repeating everything Rory was doing- not because she doubted the intern's abilities, but because she simply needed to reassure herself.

The Doctor paused as he opened his mouth for the human doctor in a childish "Ahhh," and shot a confused glance at Jack who had taken up his hand after Martha. "Jack, why are you taking my pulse?"

"I'm not," the Captain corrected, and then smirked. "I just wanted to hold your hand."

"Oh, stop it!" Was the Doctor's response, pulling his hand back as first River and then Amy burst out laughing. His cheeks were that signature red, and Amy reflected that a man over a millennium should hardly be capable of getting so flustered at simple flirting, as Martha shook her head with a smile and shooed the American back to stand by Mickey and Donna.

"So you're all better now?" The redheaded temp asked. "I was right?"

"Of course you were right, you're brilliant," the Doctor praised, his proud smile faltering ever so slightly as she looked away in embarrassment. "You are! Donna Noble, you are so incredibly brilliant- why can't you ever accept that?"

"You're the only one that thinks so, Doctor, you and Gramps," she admitted. "Shaun didn't think so."

"Oh, Donna," he said softly, opening his arms—as far as he could with one still cuffed to his own bed—and the older woman knelt on the edge of the bed and gratefully accepted his hug. His eyes were shut tight as he vowed, "I don't care if I have to walk across every galaxy- the first thing I'm going to do when I'm allowed out of this bed is find you your Lee McAvoy."

"Thanks," Amy heard her mutter into his shoulder.

"I've missed your hugs," the Doctor mentioned with a contented smile, and Donna could be heard scoffing.

"You got one barely a week ago, Sunshine."

"Wasn't the same," he insisted petulantly.

"Yeah…suppose you're right," the older woman agreed, pulling back to look at him properly. "You should've seen Gramps' face when I stopped home to tell him what happened."

"Did he do the dance?" The Doctor asked eagerly with an excited smile, and Donna actually laughed.

"Yep! Thought he'd never stop, and I swear he's gotten even worse at it."

"Sweetie's not very talented either," River commiserated, and Amy giggled as the archeologist's husband pouted indignantly.

"I am a perfectly good dancer, River," he argued, but amended as Amy only laughed harder, "At any rate, I'd be honored to have my skill compared to someone of such high esteem as Wilfred Mott."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Sure thing, Spaceman."

"Martha Smith-Jones, stop taking notes about my improved condition and have a seat," the Doctor suddenly reprimanded, and the woman in question looked up from the clipboard she'd been writing on.

"We'll be a bit intimate," Martha said with a slight quirk of the lips, nodding at the now rather crowded bed. River merely crawled forward and settled in at her husband's side, leaning her head on his shoulder. Due to his hand still trapped by the handcuffs, his arm was automatically around her waist, but Amy noted he didn't seem particularly bothered by it. Instead, as Amy moved over to make room, he nodded insistently at Martha, who gave a little exasperated shake of the head. "Alright, alright," she said, occupying the space Amy had been in before.

"Why is it always the girls?" Jack complained, though mostly joking.

"Least he doesn't laugh when your name and the word 'nose' turn up in the same sentence," Rory pointed out.

"Least he's always _known_ your name," Mickey remarked.

"Oi, it's not a competition!" The Doctor spoke up, looking at least a little ashamed. "Blimey, talk about dissent among the ranks," he muttered, realizing too late that he'd met Amy's eyes. He flinched a little under her stern gaze.

"How long have you been talking to yourself?" She asked, and knew her friend understood what she meant; how long had he been travelling alone, before the Chameleon Arch debacle, enough to rely on even the Dream Lord's toxic words for company?

River was looking up at him, equally concerned by the Time Lord's seeming inability to face either of them. "It's been a rough few years, Pond," he confided quietly.

"Well, that explains how you came up with the stupid idea to nearly get yourself killed," Rory reasoned, and the Doctor scowled slightly.

"Saving your daughter's life, Rory, is hardly a stupid idea," he shot back. "And how is it only stupid when I try it, hm? Because you lot have all had some really idiotic ideas- trust me, I've been there for all of them. Throwing yourself in front of a Silurian gun sound familiar, Mr. Pond?" Rory looked away under the Time Lord's reproachful stare. "Giving the strange man with no shoes all of your remaining oxygen, not one of your best moments, Martha, and don't even make me mention that Osterhagen Key," the female doctor winced at the reminder. "And Donna—jumping in front of a truck? _Really_?"

"Oi!" The woman in question interrupted his tirade, something none of the others had been brave enough to do yet. "_She_ said—"

"_A moving truck_." He spoke in that tone of voice that always made Amy remember just why he was so well-feared by his enemies. As if sensing her sudden nervousness, the Doctor's eyes darted to her face. "And Pond! Oh, Amy Pond, I could have a field day with you—'my hand's turned to stone, just leave me to the Angels'?" He paraphrased, leaving her feeling quite foolish and just a little upset. "You, River- ha!"

"Oh?" His wife inquired, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him in challenge.

"Volunteering to jump into a crack in the universe that would erase your very existence! How would _that_ have solved anything?"

"Ok, ok, we get it- we do dumb things, too!" Mickey finally interrupted, putting a supportive hand on Martha's shoulder as he spoke. The Doctor stopped mid-breath, looking around in surprise and almost horror.

"Oh, what have I done?" He breathed aloud, and when Amy risked a glance in his direction, the alien was practically exuding remorse with his expression. Those big, watery eyes were on full power. "Stupid, stupid Doctor," he muttered crossly at himself, before hugging River tightly to him and resting his head atop her curls. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, and her daughter said nothing, only embracing him back. Soon enough he released her, pulling Donna into a second hug for that day. "So sorry." Martha was next, as he repeated once more, "So very sorry." The Doctor looked up and spotted Rory, and for one moment Amy thought he was going to jump from the bed just to hug the other man. But she, like him, had forgotten the handcuffs, and so he jerked upward and then was yanked roughly back onto the mattress. He appeared winded by the unexpected trip and could only watch as she managed a little chuckle at the comical display.

"Oh, Amelia," he murmured with guilt hanging onto every syllable, effectively cutting off her laughter. He pushed himself up with one arm and reached out to her with the other. "Come here, Amy." She did as asked, holding onto him even if it felt a little off without the tweed, and relishing the secure feeling she always got in his arms. One of his hands went to the back of her head and he pulled away just a little only so he could place that customary kiss to her forehead.

"You're right," the Doctor said miserably once he'd rewrapped his arms about her once more. "I'm rubbish on my own. But you're the reasons why I even consider doing such dangerous things- why they're necessary in the first place. I can't risk that happening to another person again- not anymore. I've got to go it alone, to keep the rest of you magnificent humans safe."

"That's not an option," Amy responded stubbornly, a felt him tense slightly. But opening her eyes she realized it was only because River had placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Doctor, perhaps one of us—"

"No," he firmly interrupted, shaking his head as he broke away from the hug with Amy. "Look at all of you! You've got families and jobs and lives- amazing lives, and I can't ask you to—"

"I meant me."

He froze, looking at her completely perplexed. "But- River, you _never_ want to come with me. I mean, yeah, you're there sometimes, but you always leave. You- you—I always ask, but—"

"And that was because if I'd stayed it would have messed up our timelines," his wife explained patiently, and Amy could almost see the wheels of his brain churning at impossible speeds. "But now, since we've done everything in my diary, that doesn't matter anymore."

"…We- we- we're…not wibbly-wobbly- anymore…" he stammered, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Penny in the air," River commented with a wry smile.

"We're in _sync_."

She smirked. "Penny—"

But River was rendered unable to finish her trademark from her time as Mels because the Doctor quite abruptly leaned in and captured her lips with his. The professor did not seem to have any complaints as she wound her arms snug around his neck, effectively closing the gap between their bodies, and her husband's hands buried themselves in her wild curls.

"Well that's just _brilliant_," Donna remarked, standing and walking over to stand by Jack, who was watching with a smirk. Martha went to retrieve her clipboard, and stood reexamining her notes more as something to pass the time than any particular need. Mickey joined her, occasionally sneaking a glance back at the pair and shaking his head. Amy personally couldn't keep the grin off her face, getting up to stand by her own husband, who was looking quite agitated and increasingly worried.

"Um, breathing would be- good," the Roman said stiffly after a minute, frowning and shifting on his feet when that received no response. Amy had to stifle a laugh at the realization that for once it wasn't the Doctor reminding someone of the need for oxygen. "Breathe. Doctor? Doctor!"

River broke away with a gasp, throwing a wicked smirk in her parent's direction. "He doesn't have to, Daddy—respiratory bypass." Neither Rory or Amy could think up a response, and she didn't wait for one, instead diving right back in to continue where she'd left of with the dazed but happy-looking Time Lord. Amy actually did laugh at the shocked look on her own husband's face, but fortunately for Rory—or the Doctor, depending on how the situation might have played out—Donna finally had had enough.

"Oi, Spaceman!" She bellowed and the Doctor jumped, detaching himself mostly from his wife, although her hands were still splayed on his back and his un-cuffed hand was still lost amongst all her hair. Jack gave an appreciative whistle, which seemed to bring their alien friend back to Earth at last, as he flushed perhaps the reddest Amy had ever seen him and hid his face amongst the pillows. She wasn't the only one who laughed this time. River, for her part, looked completely unabashed as usual, and simply snuggled up against him.

"So," Amy started, dragging the syllable out as she fished something from her pocket. "I think it's safe to take this off, since you're not going anywhere, yeah?" She leaned over him and her daughter and inserted the key into the lock of the handcuffs, straightening back up with them in her hand. The Doctor rubbed at his wrist with the other hand, with the added effect of bringing his arms around River once again.

"Thank you, Amy," the words were muffled against the pillow and she rolled her eyes though he wasn't watching.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm happy, too." And she really was, what with the wonderful revelation that her best friend and her daughter were finally matched up probably as far as time was concerned. She'd always felt dissatisfied and almost pitying with the way the couple had had to make do with their predicament, but at last that was behind them. Really, she and Rory had no right to judge anyway, considering the display they'd put on after those two-thousand years.

The Doctor risked peeking up at her from behind the safety of his pillow, and she noticed that the color was beginning to recede, the shade a rosy pink now.

Amy thought for a moment, an idea coming to her mind. "You know, Doctor, you're looking rather tired. I think it'd be best if we let you sleep," she started backing up, trying to ignore Rory's raised eyebrows.

"I've been asleep for two days, Pond," the Time Lord reminded, looking confused and quite awake.

"Well, all that Chameleon Arch stuff's got to be exhausting, yeah? You should really rest," she nodded decisively.

"_Thanks, mum_," River mouthed with a grateful smile, and her husband was now looking back and forth between the mother and daughter, suspicious but uncertain.

"Yeah, we ought to leave you alone, Doc," Jack added, obviously having caught on, and starting to herd the others out the door. "Clear most of this end of the hall- don't need some green Greyhound stumbling in here looking for the bathroom or something."

"That could probably be arranged," Martha agreed slowly, a smile spreading across her face as she led Mickey out. Donna was easy enough to leave herself, but Amy had to practically drag Rory out into the hall.

"Pleasant dreams," she finished with a grin, flicking the light off and shutting the door before her clueless alien friend had a chance to reply.

They made it halfway down the hall of the trailer before Amy and Martha gave into their giggles. Jack laughed along with them, and even Donna was fighting off her chuckles. Mickey just shook his head, amused, before heading off to clear the hall like Jack had suggested. Rory kept looking back the way they'd come.

"Amy—"

"Oh, lighten up, stupid face, they're married," she scolded good-naturedly, and started tugging him back to the house.

Because the Ponds were married, too.

**So, quite a bit more lighthearted than the last few chapters. I'd planned for this to be the last one, but fortunately for you all there's still a bit left. So next chapter will probably be the end. Thanks so much for reading all this, and please review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Alright, time to finish this. At the outset, I just had a lot of ideas and themes I wanted to write about—I had no idea I'd wind up with 22 chapters and an insane amount of reviews, favorites, follows, and a C2! It's astonishing, but that makes it all the more amazing to me! Thank you all so much and enjoy the end!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Twenty-two**

The UNIT trailer had been packed away again at last, and Martha, Mickey, and Jack were preparing to head out.

"Wish you all didn't have to leave," Amy said sadly, giving the female doctor one final hug.

"Well, we've got other things to do," the other woman said with a regretful smile. "And we've been missing Mandy so much," she exchanged a look with Mickey who nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it's been way too long," the man said as he shook Rory's hand. Even still, the military couple cast wistful glances at the TARDIS.

"Oh no you don't," the Doctor warned, shaking his finger preemptively. "I've learned my lesson—no more expectant couples on my TARDIS. I have no need for- for _Time Heads_ as Pond so eloquently put it," she and he both bit back laughs at the old joke, but he managed to soldier on sternly. "Two River Songs are not needed."

"I could think of a few reasons they might be," Jack said, waggling his eyebrwos.

"So could I," River herself smirked.

"Oh, stop it," he flushed, scolding them as if misbehaving children. The Captain and the professor merely grinned at him with wickedness dancing in their eyes.

"Ok," Martha said, deciding to save the alien from his discomfort, "We get it. But drop in sometime, alright? Don't be a stranger."

"Yeah, Mandy's heard all about you," Mickey added, causing the Doctor to beam at them.

"Of course I will. Smith and Jones. Come here, you two," he wrapped an arm around each of them in a hug, which the couple readily returned. When he pulled away, the Doctor actually managed to meet Jack Harkness' gaze head-on. "Jack."

"Doc," the man said, his smile nothing but warm. Amy couldn't help but appreciate the effort Jack was making not to be his overly flirtatious self.

"I'm very grateful to you for watching over the Ponds, I know how busy you already are with Torchwood."

"I was glad to do it. My pleasure," he couldn't help winking at Amy over the Time Lord's shoulder.

"Yes- well," the Doctor stuttered, "thank you."

"Oh, come here, Doctor," the immortal man finally instructed, and threw his arms about the other man. Their friend hugged back, and Amy was pretty sure the American might die of happiness.

"I think that's good, Jack."

"Ok."

He finally released the Doctor and stepped back to rejoin Martha and Mickey. All three soldiers stood in a perfect line with upright postures and snapped a crisp salute at the same time.

"Oh," the Doctor sighed, with a slightly exasperated smile, and raised two fingers to his forehead in rare acknowledgement of the military gesture. Sharing one final smile, the UNIT and Torchwood members turned and climbed into the trailer. They watched as it rumbled down the road and out of sight.

"Great," Rory grumbled as Mr. Hopkins poked his head out warily, and then stepped out onto his front lawn with the leaf blower.

"So!" The Doctor said loudly over the roar of the machine. "Donna- you…?"

Donna smiled ruefully and shook her head. "I can't, Doctor."

The little hopeful smile on his face dropped into a blank line for a split second, before he began nodding as if in understanding. "Right, yes, of course. You're right, I was being—"

"I'm not saying forever, Spaceman," she stopped him, and his eyes widened again. "But- first I've got to get my life back in order. And I owe it to mum and Gramps to stay, just for a little while. But you better come back and get me, Doctor, cause you're not rid of Donna Noble that easy!"

By the end of her little speech, the Doctor was smiling widely. "Nor would I ever want to be," he told her, pulling her into an embrace. "And I'll see you very soon, that's a promise."

She pulled away with a satisfied smile on her face. "Better yet," she said, tilting her head in the direction of the back lawn where the TARDIS was still parked. "You can drop me off."

His grin, if at all possible, grew wider. "It would be my honor." Turning briefly to Amy, Rory, and River, he announced, "Ponds, I'll be back in just a moment—just a few stops I have to make. But I'll be back in- oh- give me a couple hours leeway before you start to worry."

"Well, you were early last time," Amy considered, "Keep it up and I might actually start to believe you."

"You will!" He promised boldly, before starting to lead Donna to the TARDIS. "Now, have you actually gotten to see inside the Old Girl yet, Donna? She's _really_ outdone herself this time- beautiful!"

"Oh, you outer-space _weirdo_."

OoO

Wilfred Mott had simply been sitting and watching the telly when he heard it. The old soldier knew his old ears weren't deceiving him, for he had been listening for that noise for the past four years.

It was him.

Jumping to his feet with an agility that belied his aging bones, Wilf hurried as fast as he could to the door, just in time for three knocks to sound.

When the old man opened his front door, there was his Donna. "Hey Gramps," she said softly, "Everything's fixed now. So there's someone I want you to…" she trailed off, her smile fading slightly as she observed him.

For while Wilf had smiled happily in greeting for his granddaughter, his eyes had inevitably landed on the man next to her, whose hand was still raised as though to deliver a fourth and final rap to the doorframe.

He was dressed like he should be Wilf's age, in a tweed jacket and a bow-tie for crying out loud. It looked like he might even be wearing braces underneath the coat. The hair was still somewhat modern, though, but less sticky-uppy.

And yet, even with all those radical changes, Wilf could only stare in amazed silence- because it was _him_. Those old, impossibly old, eyes in that face that held the weariness and pain of a thousand battles, but still contained the joy and wonder of the stars. And that man—that wonderful man—was smiling at him, Wilfred Mott.

"Hello, Wilf," the Doctor said quietly, and he felt the tears gather in his eyes.

"Oh- oh- it's you," he said in amazement, and couldn't refrain from pulling the young-looking alien into his arms. Some of his tears leaked out onto the scratchy material of the other's jacket, but if the Doctor cared he made no complaint. Though he was initially stiff in Wilf's hold—the former soldier remembered with clarity the fear the time traveler had admitted to having—he managed to relax, even putting his own arms around the old man, and seemed incredibly relieved.

"Hang on," Donna broke in, and Wilf chuckled at his beloved granddaughter's lack of patience, pulling away at last to look at her. "How'd you know it was him?"

"Well, the video," Wilf explained, and did not notice the look of panic on the Doctor's face. "Some people came with a video—said the most beautiful things I've ever heard—and the gifts."

"The gifts?" Donna repeated with growing suspicion, turning on the alien who flinched and backed up until he was pressed into the doorframe. "That was _you_?"

"Well, yes!" He huffed. "That wasn't obvious?"

"You gave me a fez! A bloody _fez_!"

"Fezzes are cool!" The Doctor protested, before adding, "Planet of the Hats, remember?"

Donna was already opening her mouth to fire off another of her stinging retorts, but froze at the words. Then, almost impossibly, she started laughing, the Doctor joining in after realizing she wasn't about to kill him. Wilf hardly understood the exchange, but his Donna was happy and she had her man—her alien again to laugh with like the friends they were.

"Well, you can have it back now if you want," she told him, and the Doctor looked like he was about to accept, but then blanched.

"No- no, probably a bad idea- River…" Donna smirked at the Doctor as he frowned as if in mourning. "Anyway!" He said brightly, "It's yours now. And it'll remind me to come back."

"You're not staying?" Wilf asked, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice, looking between the two. "You're not going with him?"

"Not right now," Donna told him.

"You and Donna and Sylvia need some time together, I should think," the Doctor chipped in with a little smile, and Wilf couldn't help but agree. Sylvia, bless her heart, was going to have to get used to their Donna being back at last. "And, I have got some people to see. Good to see you, Wilf," the alien clapped him on the shoulder before giving his granddaughter a tight hug. "Thank you, Donna Noble. I'll be back."

"I'll be waiting." She said, in a voice softer than most thought her capable of.

"Yes…my Friends Who Wait. There's someone I've _really_ got to see."

OoO

"Sarah Jane, the TARDIS has been identified," Mr. Smith's voice called from the attic after his usual fanfare, and the brunette investigator looked up from the morning paper. Setting down her teacup, she went to greet the Ponds. Amy had called her back after that terrible scene on the news to inform her of the Doctor's status as John Smith. Perhaps the little family of three just needed a friend to talk to at the moment. She could certainly use one, too.

But before she was halfway up the stairs, Sarah Jane heard the unmistakable bark, as joyful as a robotic voice could be, of "Master!"

"_K-9_!" A man's voice exclaimed, one she had only recently gotten to know. It caused her to hurry up the stairs anyway.

And there he was, all gangly limbs and floppy hair and bow-tied and tweed, crouched close to the ground and gleefully petting the robot dog. "Oh, you good boy! You _recognized_ me! Hello, Mr. Smith!"

"Hello, Doctor," the supercomputer replied in its neutral tone, and K-9 gave a happy front-and-back wheel.

"Hello, Doctor," Sarah Jane had managed to find her voice at last, echoing Mr. Smith's words. The Doctor looked up and met her gaze, slowly rising to his full height with one final pat to K-9's head.

"Hello, Sarah-Jane," he said softly, a smile spreading across his whole face and lighting his eyes with that special warmth. "My Sarah Jane." He'd barely opened his arms before she'd rushed into them, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as he held her firmly, but gently.

"H- how…?"

"Had some help," he murmured into her hair, rocking them slowly side to side in a soothing motion. "You remember Donna?"

She nodded, and the Doctor felt it as her head was tucked under his chin.

"She's all better now, and she saved me. So very brilliant, just like all of you," he told her, that familiar pride and delight in his voice.

"You did it," she breathed in amazement. "I knew you would."

"Oh, you've always had such faith in me, Sarah Jane. Thank you." He whispered.

She finally was able to dry her eyes and let go of him, but couldn't help grasping his hand even as she pulled away. The Doctor smiled down at her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I was going to take K-9 for a little walk soon," she told him, "Would you like to join me?"

"I'd love to."

They strolled down the street side-by-side, K-9 rolling in front, the Doctor swinging their hands back-and-forth in an endearingly childish way. Sarah Jane didn't bother to pay attention to the odd looks they were receiving—an older woman with a young man in old clothes and a robot dog attracted some stares—and instead just talked, filling him in on everything.

"Luke loves it at the university, and I'm so proud of him," she was saying, "but I do miss him terribly sometimes. They grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Yes, you humans do. You know, I have a friend who's probably learning that right now."

"Do you?"

"Yes…come to think of it, I should probably see how he's doing."

OoO

Craig Owens gave another despairing groan as Alfie started jumping on the couch again. "Alfie, please," he pleaded, reaching for the little boy. But his son was smarter than that and jumped down, darting around the father's legs and climbing up onto the sofa instead.

Sure, he and Alfie got along just fine, thick as thieves Sophie called them, but sometimes when the toddler had finished his lunch he tended to get a little rambunctious. Craig understood children had a lot of energy, but he often wished it wasn't _this_ much energy.

He was trying to corral their son by himself because Sophie had gone out for a day of shopping with the girls at their- and his –insistence. He loved Soph to death, but she just always fretted, not wanting to leave them on their own. He tried not to get insulted, but there was only so much a man's pride could take. Craig knew perfectly well how to raise his own son, thanks!

Before he could continue his efforts to make the child stop, however, the doorbell rang. He couldn't keep from rolling his eyes in irritation; Craig just knew Sophie had forgotten her set of keys, _again_, and was using that as an excuse to return home early.

Well it wouldn't work this time. He would just have to be firm with her, not even let her in the door, and hope Alfie stayed relatively quiet until she left. Sophie needed this day out. He needed this day out to show her she _could_ have days out.

He'd just tell her. _Sophie, I know how to raise our son_. "I know how to raise our son," he muttered to himself, entering the front hall with purpose. He could do this. "I know how to raise our son. I _know_ how to raise our son." It was easy! He strode to the door confidently, and yanked it open, not even letting her say the first word. "I know how to raise our son!"

"That's good to hear, Craig!" A jovial, horridly familiar, and absolutely _male_ voice replied. His mouth dropped open and he stared in wide-eyed shock. "Although, if you ever require assistance, I know a perfectly capable Sontaran—"

"What?" He gasped, unable to accept the image presented before him. The Doctor nodded in acknowledgement of his outburst.

"It does seem unlikely, but I assure you Strax knows exactly how to take care—"

"_What_?" He repeated, before snapping his mouth shut and quickly shaking his head. "No. No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening."

"Oh, come on, Craig, give Strax a chance," the Doctor scolded with a disapproving frown.

"Not that!" He exclaimed in frustration, before gesturing at the Time Lord himself. "You!"

"Me?" The Doctor seemed perplexed, but regardless brushed Craig aside and stepped into the house.

"Yes, you! They- they said you died! _You_ said you died!" He tried his best to get the Doctor's full attention, but the alien was already looking about the hallway with his usual curiosity, and the best Craig could do was to follow after him.

"Oh Craig, when will you listen? I said goodbye, not that I was dying." He licked an index finger, held it up a moment, and then licked it again. "New coat of paint, I see," he commented.

"Yeah, well, Alfie drew on the wall with a permanent marker and—no, wait, but I saw you on the news! You got hit by a pole!"

"Yes, and it slowed me down for a couple of weeks," the Doctor dismissed, quickly progressing to the sitting room. "Point is—Alfie!"

The toddler in question, who had moved on to throwing all the cushions on the floor, looked up and gave a little shriek of delight. "Doctor!"

"Hello again, Alfie," the alien stooped to deliver his signature air kisses to the little boys cheeks. "How is everything these days?" Alfie gave another giggle-babble, and the Doctor nodded. "Yes, I know, it's hardly a castle, but you redecorate however you see fit."

"What's hardly a castle?" He couldn't help asking in bewilderment. His friend looked up at him.

"The house, of course. Every Lord has a castle, you know that, Craig."

"But- he likes Alfie now," he reminded, "You said- so all that weird Dark Lord stuff is over."

"Of course it isn't. Alfie can still be a Lord even if he's decided against Stormageddon. Cut him some slack, he's only had a couple of years to pick out a good name." The Doctor shook his head as if what he was saying was obvious.

Craig blinked and decided not to think about what this truly meant. "So…you came to say hello?" He asked doubtfully.

"Course I did. Just popping by to let you know everything's fine," the Time Lord smiled, then tilted his head as a thought occurred to him. "Although…" he trailed off, jumping up and walking quickly from the room. Craig followed behind nervously. "The mailboxes on this street…I've a funny feeling about them."

OoO

Ron sighed as he led the way up the stairs, trying to go into this with a positive attitude. At least Molly was here this time, so they could both see how this arrangement might work out.

Ron Sherwood was attempting to find a new flat mate—had been trying for the past six months. But it never seemed to work out. They didn't like the location, they didn't like him, didn't like Molly, he didn't like them, he thought they were weird, and a whole host of other reasons. A couple would stay on for a month or so, but not for long. It was rough on him, because he was left trying to cover the rent by himself. Ron wasn't sure how long this was going to work out.

At least he had his girlfriend, Molly Pines. She was honestly the one that kept him trying, and kept his spirits up. He honestly wasn't sure if he'd ever been happier than these wonderful six months with Molly.

He and Molly were now showing a Josh Fen the flat. Josh seemed a perfectly average bloke, and he was starting to see some potential on him.

"So anyway, we're the second on the right," Ron was saying as they reached their floor, taking out his keys and inserting them into the lock. "It can get a little stuck sometimes, but I haven't had the money to get it fixed—the keys still work though."

"Ok," Josh said, nodding once to show he understood. Molly had been waiting for the door to open, and thus was the first one out of the three to see the inside of the flat.

She gasped.

Josh gaped.

"Uh, what is it?" Ron asked, glancing at them both, before following their stares with his eyes into the front room. It looked perfectly normal, and even neater than usual—save for the blue police box sitting in the corner.

"Oh my goodness," Molly breathed, and Ron couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and horror. Because he was here- but had he really had to choose _now_ to be here?

The door creaked open, and the Doctor stuck his head out. Ron knew it was the Doctor because of one very simple thing- the bow-tie. Spotting Ron and Molly, the alien smiled.

"Ron Sherwood and Molly Pines!" He shouted in delight, giving a little hop out of the door of his space ship and landing on both feet. "Was wondering where you two had got off to! I didn't get to give you a proper goodbye."

Before either of them could say anything, Josh spoke. "Who- who is that?" The possible flat mate demanded. "Why is that in here?" He pointed a shaky finger at the box.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor," the Doctor took four long strides to cross the room and enthusiastically shake the other man's hand. "That's the TARDIS- stands for Time and Relative Dimen—"

"Y-you've got a nutter living in a crate in your front room," Josh interrupted, looking at them all now very frightened. He backed away. "Sorry, but I- I got to- er, go. Yeah." The man could be heard running all the way down the hall and through the door to the stairwell.

"It's not a front room, she's a box!" The Doctor called after him. "Can see how you might get confused, but—"

"Doctor," Ron cut him off with a frown. "You just scared off my new flat mate."

The alien tilted his head in confusion. "Your new flat—oh! Heheh, whoops," his eyes darted away for a moment and he looked the picture of sheepish. "Ehm, Sorry about that, Ron. I thought I'd picked a good time- didn't realize you'd find somebody else so quick."

"What do you mean? It's been six months," Molly pointed out in a puzzled tone, and their friend's eyes widened.

"Six months? Nah, can't be right- I was aiming for a couple days—ohh, the helmic regulator!" He groaned in frustration. "Sorry, sorry, thought I'd fixed that after- had some trouble with the Intergalactic Pony Express—the Postmaster General of the Andromeda Sector was very adamant that their missing milestones be found. But, I assure you, I meant to come straight after!"

Ron couldn't help feeling a bit better, even if he didn't understand half of it. "We thought you'd just disappeared," he admitted, and Molly nodded sadly.

"Thought you'd forgotten us," she added in almost a whisper, and the alien's face fell.

"Of course I didn't- I'd never!" He wrapped an arm around each of them and Ron found himself bumping into Molly on one side, his face peeking out over the Doctor's tweed-covered shoulder. "If I could, I'd fix this," he heard the man murmur.

Molly had heard to. "Then why don't you?" She suggested, turning her face to the side so her words could be heard clearly. "Right now. You could go back a little under six months and—"

The Doctor loosened his grip on them both so he could look at them. "I can't, Molly, because otherwise you'd already remember it. It'd create a paradox that could—"

"Destroy two-thirds of the universe?" Ron finished with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not two-thirds—don't get carried away, Ron—but it would be very not good. So, instead I shall ask how you have both been doing."

They sat on the couch, the Doctor in the middle just like the old days- only now so that they could both talk to him and ask him questions freely.

"That's a right shame about the flat mate situation," he said sympathetically. "I always have trouble hanging on to travelling companions myself, they always seem to—River!" Their friend shot straight to his feet with a horrified cry. "Blimey- I said a couple hours—a couple _hours_!"

"Doctor," Molly tried, but the alien was pacing up and down before the coffee table, running a hand frantically through his hair.

"Oh, what am I going to do! This is bad, Ron, Molly—extremely very not good!"

"Doctor," Ron decided to give it a go as well, without any luck.

"And now she's going to think—"

"Doctor!" They both shouted from their seats on the couch, and he whirled about to face them.

"We called the Williams'—"

"The _who_?"

"The Ponds," Molly corrected, "A few days after we went home. They said you and your- um- wife had already left. That's why we thought you had forgotten us," she finished quietly.

"Oh," the Doctor said in realization. "Oh, I must go back there after I leave you two here—well, that's a relief!" He dropped back onto the couch, perfectly at ease again. "Now, we need to sort this flat mate problem out. Ron, you're looking for someone who has a steady income, is a respectable, honest, relatively organized person, and who doesn't mind when Molly comes over which is all the time."

Molly turned a little pink, but neither of them argued it. "Right," he agreed.

"Ok- so!" The Doctor grinned. "Who do you know who fits all those criteria?"

"Er…"

"Don't over-think it, Ron," the other man advised, and slowly but surely Ron's gaze slid past his friend's face to his girlfriend's. Molly's eyes widened, but he thought he saw perhaps the beginning of a hopeful smile.

"Molly?"

"Knew you'd get it," the Doctor congratulated, patting him on the shoulder whilst giving Molly a one-armed hug around the shoulder. "Well, I'll leave you two to move-in. I've got some Ponds waiting on me."

OoO

It was still light out, but they were sharing a bottle of wine at the table on their patio. After all, they were saying goodbye to their daughter, for the time being at least.

"And if you ever need anything, don't be afraid to call," Rory was saying and River smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek while Amy watched with a contented feeling. It was nice to have these moments every once in a while.

"Of course, Daddy. Thank you."

"And come and get us if it's something really interesting, yeah?" Amy couldn't help but add with a grin, the blonde woman laughing as she nodded.

They all sat up a bit straighter as that wheezing, grinding sound filled the air again, and watched as the TARDIS materialized.

"Three hours, Doctor," Amy chastised as he stepped out of the doors. He pouted as he met them halfway across the back lawn.

"A said a couple, Pond, I wasn't being exact." Amy merely smirked with a raised eyebrow. "Had a couple of stops to make, the usual thing and—"

"Well, you're here now," River soothed. "Hello, Sweetie."

"Hi honey," he replied with a grin, before starting as though remembering the presence of his in-laws. "Uh, well- River, I think it's only fair you pick our first destination. Anywhere you want, anywhen—just make it amazing."

"Oh I will," their daughter practically leered, and he scratched at his cheek nervously. "But in all seriousness, dear, would you mind too terribly if I drove? I'd actually like get where and when I want to go on our first trip, at least."

"Oh- well," he blustered, rather put out, but River just kept staring at him with wide eyes and an innocent expression- no matter how much of an act that was. "…I suppose," the Doctor relented.

"Thank you, Sweetie," River chirped, kissing his cheek- a giggle escaping her husband's lips- giving each of her parents a hug before almost sashaying to the TARDIS. "I'll input the coordinates."

"Well, well…Ponds," the Doctor said when it was just the three of them. "There was a lot going on at the time, so I never really had the chance to say thank you."

"Yeah, we know," Rory told him as he nodded.

"No, but really, I mean it. Rory Williams and Amelia Pond- two of my dearest friends, dispatching my will when they didn't want to, doing everything they could to find me and keep me alive." He took a deep breath and said, "My family," with a shy smile.

Amy and Rory smiled warmly back, trying to convey that he didn't need to be unsure, that that was exactly who they were.

"This won't be the last you see of me," the Doctor continued with his usual confidence. "Rest assured, Ponds, I will bring your daughter back to visit often."

"Take care of her," Rory requested seriously.

"Yes, sir," the Time Lord nodded, but Amy scoffed.

"Like she'll need it, she'll be busy watching out for _you_, Raggedy Man." He opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut at her raised eyebrow and deflated somewhat in defeat. Soon enough, however, all three friends were laughing.

"Oh, magnificent Ponds! Come here- Rory," the Doctor embraced him tightly, and her husband returned it. "Amy." She cherished the feel of his arms around her for the last time in what might well be a while.

"Keep in touch," she couldn't help but to remind him.

"I will," he pulled back with a tender smile, and Amy gave him one of her own.

"Sweetie, I'm ready!" His smile turned to a chagrined grimace and she giggled a bit behind her hand.

"This is how it's going to be, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically, but turned and walked back to the TARDIS. River's infamous 'Heel, boy!' was not to be trifled with. "So, where to?" He asked his wife at the door.

"It's a surprise, Doctor, you can't have those very often I'm sure," River replied, and the Doctor's eyebrows raised in interest.

"A surprise? Well- no- I don't tend to get those often, only if I use the Randomizer—but a surprise!" He turned away from her to look back at them. "Are you sure you don't want to come, Ponds?"

The temptation was great, but River's head was shaking slightly in a clear sign that her parents were not welcome on this one.

"Thanks, Doctor, but we're a little tired from the last adventure," Amy covered. "You can come get us for the next one."

"Yeah, I'd sort of appreciate finishing at least half of my internship without being attacked by aliens," Rory added, seeming to accept with some resignation that his daughter was actually married. The grateful smile River gave them before slipping back into the TARDIS was worth it.

"Well, I suppose if you're sure…" the Doctor said. "Ok. But, I do know a rather peaceful planet if that's what you're looking for—maybe the Ood Sphere! You've met the Ood, haven't you, Ponds? Really beautiful planet, made entirely of—woah!" He yelped as River emerged impatiently, spun him about, and yanked him through the doors by his braces. "_River_, that's ru—mmph!" Was all he was able to say, and then the doors of the blue box snapped shut. The TARDIS dematerialized a few moments later.

Amy and Rory exchanged somewhat amused glances, before returning to their seats out on the patio, and the Ponds enjoyed the rest of their sunny afternoon.

OoO

Aaron shifted agitatedly in his seat as he and the rest of his peers gave their fellow classmate some scattered applause. The girl at the front of the room let out the breath she'd been holding, and returned to her desk, glad as all the others had been to be done with it.

"Aaron Wood, you're next," the teacher read his name off the list, and his chair scraped back against the tile as Aaron stood. He pulled up his presentation on the teacher's computer and the first slide appeared on the screen. Standing next to it, he swallowed once and began.

"Well, I- uh- did my presentation on- on the Doctor," he mumbled nervously. Sure, it had been exhilarating doing the research- not to mention the Sontaran invasion –this summer. And sure, he had fact upon factoid of information in this slideshow. But right now, standing up in front of his classmates—his classmates who had done normal things like Churchill or Queen Elizabeth I or Michelangelo—Aaron wasn't so sure this had been the best idea after all. His new teacher's skeptical face wasn't helping either.

"Which Doctor, Aaron?" The man asked, nodding at the screen. For on the first slide, Aaron had placed eleven different pictures- on for every face the Doctor had ever had. The ginger teenager glanced back at it anyway, more as a way to avoid the adult's gaze. But his eyes landed on the final picture in particular, and that helped him find his courage again.

"All of them, sir."

"You researched eleven different men."

"No, sir," he disagreed, sucking in a breath before adding, "They're all the same."

A couple of his peers snickered or scoffed, whispering amongst themselves, and Aaron felt his face heat up in embarrassment as the teacher frowned.

"I see. Mr. Wood, I'll thank you to stop wasting your classmates' time. Sit down, and you can speak to me after class." The teacher scribbled some notes and he had to resist the urge to groan.

"But, I can prove it, sir. I have it all here!"

The teacher looked up sharply, but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by an unearthly sound- a sound Aaron just barely recognized. The students gave exclamations of surprise as a wind whipped up, papers flying off desks and scattering in the air, and he backed up as the vibrant blue police box appeared at the front of the room. For a moment, everything was still.

Then the door swung open, and the Doctor stepped out. To Aaron, the transformation from mild-mannered human to mad man Time Lord was now complete. The alien was wearing boots that would have more likely looked normal on an old man, dark trousers, a horridly unfashionable dress shirt with a red bow-tie around his neck, and had topped it off with a tweed jacket that had elbow pads. His hair, if anything, seemed somehow wilder, though still floppy, but it was his face that really sold it—his eyes had an insane glint to them, and that crazy grin was directed at him.

"Aaron!" The Doctor greeted, and he seemed to be having difficulty finding his voice to respond. "Sorry I haven't stopped by sooner- River and I had some catching up to do—ehm, but then I thought! That whole time, you doing your project on me and I never answered any of your questions! Honestly, the perfect opportunity for you to interview an important historical figure and I completely forgot about it, how rubbish is that? So—" his enthusiastic rambling was cut short by the woman Aaron knew to be called River Song, who was leaning against the TARDIS doorframe with a look of fond exasperation.

"Sweetie, I think the helmic regulator's on the fritz again."

The Doctor frowned back at her. "Can't be," he insisted, "I just finished fixing her and—hang on, this isn't the library." He walked right up to Aaron and lifted his arms by the sleeves. "Heavier clothing to provide further protection from the cold, ooh- your hair's longer," he pointed out, though Aaron didn't think it had grown even a centimeter since he last saw the Doctor in the middle of his summer holiday.

But the alien spun away from him, slapping his palms face down on the nearest desk, the student sitting at it jumping back warily. "Adolescents sitting quietly in perfect rows with paper and pencil- and…" the Time Lord walked right up to the blackboard, running a finger across the smooth surface and then licking it. Aaron tried not to gag a little as the man smacked his lips together two or three times. "Chalk! Oh, this is a school- a school! –I haven't been to a school in a while," he grinned like it was a special treat.

"Excuse me," Aaron's teacher finally said, striding down an aisle and to the front of the room. "Just who are you and _how_ did you—"

"And you must be Aaron's teacher!" The Doctor reached out and took the man's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Hello! I'm the Doctor—would've thought that was obvious, actually, can't you see the resemblance?" He pointed to the screen where Aaron's pictures were still up, his finger landing on the one in the top-left corner—the picture of his first regeneration.

"Sweetie," River Song intervened, nodding at the screen when the alien looked at her. The Doctor did a double-take.

"Oh, sorry," he corrected with a laugh, pointing with his other finger at the bottom-right. "There, that's better—sometimes forget which face I've got- happens to the best of us." Aaron's classmates were now murmuring quite loudly to each other, clearly recognizing that the strange man truly was in one of Aaron's pictures. "As for how I got here- this is my TARDIS," he reached it in two of his long strides, sliding his flat palm against the surface lovingly, like one would an exotic and expensive car, and River Song patted the doorframe gently as well. "My time-and-spaceship," the alien prompted when the teacher said nothing.

"Excuse me?" The other man blinked, taking a step back as though the words had literally pushed him. "There's no such thing."

"Oh really?" The Doctor questioned, walking back to the center. Everyone's eyes followed him, the students in their seats even pausing in their whispers. "Well, I can see that that misconception is going to hurt Aaron's grade, and that will make him sad- and if there's one thing I can't stand, Aaron's teacher, it's an upset child." He looked away from the teacher, and instead faced out to the students. Aaron couldn't help leaning forward slightly, somehow knowing that the next words were going to change his life. "So, class—how would you like to go on a field trip?"

**Aaaand, the end! Super-long compared to normal, I know, but I had to give everyone a proper send-off. That, and I think a part of me just wanted to keep writing. I can't help it! These characters are all so brilliant, and on top of that hearing from you all is one of the highlights of my day. I suppose I'll just have to come up with something new to write about. Thank you all so much for sticking through this story with me, it means so very much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys, I know Author's Notes chapters are the lamest thing ever, but I figure if some of you have this story, but not me as an author, on alert you might want to know: I have started writing a sequel entitled "For Just One Cell". I hope you'll find it as entertaining and engaging as this story, and thanks once more for all the support you've given and the inspiration you've provided me with to continue.**


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